


Phantom Limb

by Caribou King (merlot)



Category: Death Note
Genre: Delusions, Mild Gore, Multi, fem!near - Freeform, messy murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlot/pseuds/Caribou%20King
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Light is 100% sure L is still alive. So is Beyond Birthday. It is a shame that he is dead. (pretty much canon up to the end of episode 26, except BB is alive and Near is a girl)</p><p>Rewriting - this version will be left up, but it won't be finished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rewriting Phantom Limb, but I'll leave this version up until I've finished the new version. This one will be left unfinished.

**November 22nd**

L is dead.

Light saw him die, saw the light seep out of his eyes, felt him go so limp in his arms. He’d checked his pulse. He’d felt that pulse disappear. Light was holding him when he died, and he definitely died. He was confirmed dead seventeen days ago, and he’s been buried. He’s not coming back. Six feet deep where Light can never reach him. He’ll join him there one day, or maybe he’ll just dig up the body and keep it for his personal amusement. What could be more humiliating than having your skeleton used as a prop? It would be pointless because L wouldn’t be alive to feel humiliated, but it’s the principle that counts.

L is dead, definitely dead, so dead it hurts - which is why Light doesn’t expect to see a silhouette at the top of the old Task Force headquarters.

The rain is coming down with thick sheets and blurring his vision to the point that even the headlights on cars are distorted, and the colours are simply scattered into the wind. Logically, it should be far too dark for him to see anyone up there, and the angle isn’t right either, and nobody would be up there at this time of night, surely? But when he looks again, the figure’s still there, leaning over the railings.

His family’s expecting him home soon for dinner. He’d told them he was just taking a walk to clear his mind. They had just looked at him with a strange kind of pity in their eyes. They’ve been doing that a lot these days, but a god doesn’t need pity. A god doesn’t need a family. A god doesn’t need to have dinner.

There’s nobody alive to stop him breaking in.

So he breaks in, and while he’s picking the little bits of glass out of his hands, his feet are working on their own. There must have been some kind of burglar alarm while the investigation was being held here, but he assumes someone’s turned it off in the last few days. Maybe the figure on the roof. It doesn’t matter. He keeps walking.

He half-expects to find himself up on the roof when he stops thinking, but instead he stops outside the room they had shared. He’s fairly sure everything was cleared out of there, every scrap of DNA that could be used to find out L’s identity. He looks in anyway.

It’s pure, white, clean; there’s not a single trace of L’s existence. Just like L would have wanted it. He closes the door quietly and takes a deep breath. The hallway smells of nothing, and the air he’s gulping down doesn’t even taste slightly of sugar. It tastes wrong and it’s choking him. Everything is wrong. L’s not here. It’s wrong. Everything is wrong and he needs to get out of here because he thinks he might choke on the lump in his throat and wouldn’t that be funny, a God dying from choking on his own tears?

It would be funny but it isn’t going to happen.

He takes the stairs up to the roof and is flooded by memories before he can open the door. It’s been seventeen days. Seventeen days since he died. Light pushes against the door lightly, then collapses against it. He could turn back now. He’s sure dinner won’t have gotten cold yet.

L’s body was cold.

It was cold outside seventeen days ago and the wind was roaring and the rain was screaming in his ears. The weather’s even worse today. It’s even worse today because L’s not here. It’s worse every day.

He stares at the stairwell and contemplates throwing himself down it. If he died, would Kira be suspected, or would he be suspected of being Kira? Would it be a fast death, or would he be left there, crumpled, his blood draining away and just slowly fading until someone found the body?

Light stays there for a little while until his legs feel like they’re capable of holding him up and his lungs don’t feel like burning up and he doesn’t feel quite so much like dying. He still feels a lot like dying and he’s not sure if that’s because death is a major subject in his mind these days or if he genuinely wants to die. If he did die he’d want it to be dignified. Not like this. Not cowering by a door because he’s too scared to open it and face the fact that he didn’t see L up here and it was just a sleep-starved hallucination.

He’s not sure how long it takes him to open the door, but the sky’s gone a few shades darker, and constellations are beginning to peek from behind the clouds. The rain’s calmed to a drizzle now, though he can still hear the wind howling. He can feel the building shaking slightly. He’d be shaking too if there was that much rain pummelling him.

There’s a figure there, leaning over the railings, with a white shirt and blue jeans and bare feet.

Light’s going to throw up. His victory is draining out of him. He failed. And L knows – he must know – who tried to kill him. There’s no way to argue him out of this one. L’s name is in the Death Note. L should be dead. Why isn’t he dead? The world is spinning and the moon is too bright to be real and he’s shaking and why isn’t he dead why isn’t he dead _he should be dead_

Light’s got a piece of paper folded up in his hand. It isn’t part of the Death Note, because L’s name is written on it, and if it was part of the Death Note then L would not be just standing there.

L is not dead, and Kira has not won, and the weight of his failure crashes down on him harder than the strongest gusts of wind.

“You’re alive.” It hurts to speak.

L turns around, regards him with those flat black eyes. He looks alive. Like a ghost, but he’s always looked like a ghost, like he might slip away if Light didn’t claw him back. “What did you expect me to be?” His voice hasn’t changed. Of course it hasn’t. It’s only been seventeen days.

“Rem killed you.”

“Obviously not.”

Light reaches out to make sure that L is alive, solid, real. He expects his hand to just go straight through, but instead it makes contact with L’s hair. He brushes that hair back. It’s real. How is it real, how is anything real? “How is this real?” he says helplessly. “How are you still alive? How can you be real?”

“It doesn’t matter.” L is staring past him, and Light wants to grab his shoulders and force him to look his god in the eye and tell him why he’s alive, because how can he be alive, how can this be possible? “What does matter is that you keep this a secret. Nobody can know about this. Even you weren’t supposed to know.”

“You want me to lie to other people about you being dead?” Killing thousands of people is okay, because those people deserve it. Lying? That’s totally not okay, but he does it anyway. A god’s allowed to lie for the good of his subjects. If he tells nobody about L being alive, they’ll be more motivated to solve the case than ever, and that could lead to mistakes. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Light-kun.”

“Anything for a friend, Ryuzaki.”

“If I’m your friend, why did you try to kill me?” His eyes are pure black, but he doesn’t look angry, he just looks vaguely uninterested in the whole situation. His skin is so pale he looks like a corpse. He should be dead he should be dead _he should be dead_

“I think you’ll find it was Rem who tried to kill you.”

“So we’re still friends?”

“If you still want to be.” Light still hasn’t got his mind back. He’s not sure how rational this is. L is his enemy and he needs to keep him close. Maybe if he keeps him close he can kill him once and for all, get the job finished.

It makes sense in a way. L is justice, Light is justice. Justice doesn’t die, and so neither can they. It’s an awfully illogical argument but it makes everything so simple that Light can’t help but like it.

He hasn’t seen Rem for days. She must still be alive if L is. He’s going to kill her, if he can figure out how. She deserves death for betraying him. Everyone deserves to die.

“You should go home. Your mother’s spent ages cooking dinner for you,” L says. He turns around and leans over the railings again.

“And what are you going to do? Watari’s dead, he can’t sort things out for you any more.”

“Did I ever give the impression that I couldn’t sort things out for myself?”

“I’m sorry for assuming that.” He looks down, hands clasped together, painting a picture of a very apologetic teenage boy. When he looks up L is gone. Perhaps he was never there in the first place.

His hand tightens around the crumpled scrap of paper. L is dead.

 

* * *

**December 25th**

Near's made a habit of being small. Small, fragile, easy to break, but she's never going to break, which is quite a relief.

She broke her arm once, falling out of a tree where she'd been looking for bird nests. Maybe it wasn't the fall that broke it. Maybe it was the fact B had been playing particularly roughly with her afterwards. It's one of her first memories, lying on her back and plucking feathers from woodpeckers, ignoring her own pain in order to inflict it on the birds. B had taught her that you had to snap their necks after taking out the feathers, or the birds wouldn't feel any of it. He'd tucked a few feathers behind her ear and she'd smeared blood on his nose. It had been June. She had been seven years old. She'd had to wear a cast for six weeks.

She hasn't been broken since, and she doesn't plan to be.

The Rubik's cube she got this morning for Christmas is already broken, because Matt just stepped on it. “We need to leave,” he says. He’s not got a cigarette in his mouth, which means he must be somewhat serious about this. Matt is hardly ever serious, unless he's defending Mello.

Near stares at the cube snapped into colourful pieces under his foot. She could put it back together so easily, probably without even looking at it, and then solve it with her eyes still closed. She twists a strand of snow-white hair between two fingers. “Why?”

“Mello’s out there. He's been out there for weeks. It’s – he’s – we should find him.” He takes out his lighter and flicks it on, studies the flame, flicks it off again. “He might not be safe.” On and off. Near knows he only plays with his lighter this much if he’s bored or if he’s on the edge of breaking down. The tension in his face tells her he isn’t bored.

“I don’t see why that’s our problem,” she says emotionlessly, as if she doesn’t care. She does, but caring isn’t going to change anything. She always knew she was going to win this. She always knew he was going to run. He’s going to die soon. Caring is just going to break her, and she doesn’t really want to be broken.

Matt growls. He curls his hand into a fist around his lighter. “That crazy murderer guy. Apparently he escaped last week. Mello’s in danger.”

It’s then that Near looks up, her eyes wide and bright. Crazy murderers sound exciting. Leaving here... doesn’t quite sound so exciting. She’s fully aware she’d die in less than a week without anyone to care for her, and the house does a good job of that. Matt doesn’t even seem to take care of himself, so he probably won’t be able to keep her alive.

Still. There’s only one crazy murderer guy she can think of who might want to kill Mello, and she misses breaking woodpeckers’ necks with him. “If you’re going, I’m coming with you.”

It turns out he's already got a plan, which is good, because Near can't come up with plans quite that quickly, and she has no idea how to get around in the outside world. Here is safe, and so she doesn't leave, but Matt's always disappearing to buy cigarettes. He knows much more about the outside world than she does, and he also knows how to sneak out without Roger noticing straight away.

Matt’s already stolen two backpacks; “Only bring important stuff,” he tells her, “I have no idea how long we’re going to be looking for him.”

Near fills her bag with toys. She doesn’t bring clothes or toiletries, or even food. Just toys.


	2. Chapter 2

**January 15th**

When Light comes home he goes straight up to his bedroom. He doesn't say hello to Sayu because she's just committed suicide in her room. Later on, she comes up to his room and he helps her with her homework. She's never been very good with maths, and it's a welcome distraction from L.

* * *

**December 9th**

Beyond's allowed to make one call per week if he's good and docile and doesn't try and injure anyone. If he's not good, he only gets to make one every six weeks, but that's enough, and he can still hurt people. Anyway, he can use those six weeks to plan out what he's going to say. If he doesn't plan it'll be a waste.

He's been in here since September 2005. So far he has made 9 calls, and all of them have been to his darling L. They have such fascinating conversations. It's a shame he never answers the phone. It's okay, though, because Beyond always leaves messages. He's sure L loves the messages the way Beyond hates that he hasn't heard L's voice in years.

He's got today's message all planned out, and he goes through it as the phone rings. It'll ring four times and then it'll say 'please leave a message after the tone' and then he can leave the message. It's going to be a really fun one today. He's going to tell L to have a really nice Christmas, and then talk about that time at Wammy's when it was Christmas, one of their few days off, and Beyond had set fire to the Christmas tree. Maybe he'll sing a carol if the guard hasn't taken the phone off him by that point.

The phone rings two times, and then L answers, but his voice doesn't sound like L.

"Hello?" he says, "who is this?" as if he doesn't recognise the number, but L knows this number, L knows it's him. So if the person answering doesn't recognise the number and they don't know who Beyond is, then it isn't L. If it isn't L then that means L must be in trouble, and that means Beyond has to help him.

"Hello, it's me. Of course it's me." He keeps his voice calm.

"Who's there? How did you get this number?"

"Your friend, your best friend, the best friend you ever had. You gave me the number when you got me put in here. Remember that time I nearly broke your neck when I threw you off the roof?"

'L' pauses. "I remember that. Why are you calling?"

"You're not the real L." Beyond would never throw L off a roof, because that might kill him, and then what would he do? It's quite hard to effectively impersonate a corpse. "You're a fake and that's awful. You're awful, you really are."

It really is awful. How is he meant to help L when he's stuck in here? The answer is, of course, that he can't. Isn't it strange how the guard next to him has such a short lifespan?

* * *

**December 25** **th**

Matt seems to know what he's doing, which probably means he doesn't have a clue. Near has far less of a clue and so she has no choice but to follow him through the dark streets. It's cold out here. The material of her pajamas is thin. Matt's warm, so she clings to his arm until he pries her off. "What are you, five?"

"I'm thirteen," she mumbles.

"It's a figure of speech."

"I'm cold."

Matt sighs, taking his cigarette out of his mouth for a moment. "Well - put on a coat."

"I didn't bring a coat."

"Put on some other clothes or something, I dunno. There's a motel round here, pretty cheap rooms, we should be able to stay there for the night. It should be warm enough."

The motel is dirty, and the lobby carries the reek of sweat and smoke. It really isn't the right place for two teenagers, but it's only £20 for a room for the night, and so they have to settle for it because Matt didn't bring enough money for rooms anywhere else. It's better than sleeping in the street. The bed looks like it hasn't been cleaned since 2003 and the shower has suspicious stains in it; at least it's warm and they're free.

They're actually free, and the thought makes Near's heart sink. There's nobody to take care of them, and they're probably going to die in a sleazy motel somewhere near Winchester. She lies back on the bed and takes the Rubik's cube out of her backpack. She wonders if she could solve it without even looking at it.

Matt's in the shower. The sound of the water matches the sound of the rain outside. It's been raining a lot recently, and she had overheard people in the street talking about floods. The walls are damp, and there are spiders lurking in every corner and crack. There are lots of cracks. The heater works, but it works far too well. It's almost feverish in this room. Her skin is boiling but her bones are cold.

She looks down and finds the Rubik's cube solved.

"You brought a toy," Matt says. She turns to face him. He's pulling new clothes on and flicking water from his hair. He's glaring at the cube. "I told you, don't bring anything we won't need, but you just had to bring a toy, didn't you? God, Near, you can't do anything right."

She goes to grab her backpack in case he goes through it and finds that she's brought nothing but toys, but he yanks it away from her before she gets the chance.

"It's full of toys, isn't it?" he spits, his face twisting up in rage. He rips the bag open and tosses each toy out. Near winces as she hears each one hit the ground. There are some in there that she won't be able to put back together as easily as she fixed the Rubik's cube. She doesn't like it when things break.

"Jesus Christ, Near," he hisses. "Are you – you're just fucking with me, aren't you? You've hidden another bag with stuff that will actually be useful, not just toys. Not just toys. Tell me you didn't just bring toys. Tell me you're playing some kind of fucking stupid prank on me."

Near twists a strand of hair around her finger. "I'm not playing a prank on you. I really did just bring toys."

The mattress sinks slightly with added weight, and suddenly Matt looms over her. She's about to say something; then he swings a fist into her eye and talking doesn't really seem like a good idea because it might just make him hit her again. He hits her again anyway, this time over her heart.

"Ow," she says emotionlessly.

He grabs her hair then, pushing her up against the wall, and then he punches her again. It's getting quite boring now. It hurts quite a lot. She doesn't want to satisfy him by expressing that, so she just goes limp and doll-like. He punches her twice more, then tosses her onto the floor like he had done with the toys. She lands on her arm.

The floor is cold and hard and there's a sickening noise when her head makes contact with the wood. She lies there. Motionless. Matt doesn't say anything. She thinks she might be broken. The Rubik's cube had been knocked off the bed, and it had landed next to her; she picks it up and straightens up the edges. "I think I might be concussed," she says quietly. "And I think my arm is broken."

"Oh." Matt's voice is trembling.

"If I get medical attention soon, my arm should fully recover within six weeks."

"I – we don't have six weeks. And we're on the run, you – you can't get medical attention."

Near stares up at the ceiling, which is starting to darken at the edges. "It's lucky that I'm ambidextrous. I think I might lose consciousness. Can you tell me about the plan?"

"We're going to go to the scene of the murder. There should be some kind of clue there."

She nods. "I didn't realise there had been a murder."

"There has been. It's got to be the same guy. They were all cut up the way the ones he killed years back were."

"Okay." She blinks. Her eyelids feel strangely heavy. The world is moving in ways it isn't supposed to. "I don't think I can move. I'm tired. Can you put me in the bed, please?"

He picks her up easily and cradles her like she's a child. She guesses she is, but she's only one year younger than him, only one year more of a child. They're two children running away from home and into the arms of a serial killer, and they're probably going to die, because they're just children. Then he places her gently on the bed. She half expects him to start punching her again. Instead he pulls the cover over her and sits there, stroking her hair, until she loses consciousness.

* * *

 

**November 25** **th**

In the three days since finding out L is still alive, Light has managed to thoroughly convince himself that L is dead. He'd barely slept that day (or any day recently) and so it was probably just a hallucination from sleep deprivation. L had become such a constant that his brain had to summon him up so it could feel like things were normal. He was going mad.

He concluded that it was a mix of all those things and tried not to think about the whole situation again, but right now he has to think about it, because L is crouching on his bed. L is crouching on his bed with his thumb in his mouth and a vacant expression on his face, and L is dead. L is dead and buried and L is definitely not alive.

"Hello, Light," says the dead man, "I thought you would get a bit lonely without me, so I decided to visit you. Why do you look so shocked?"

"I visited your grave earlier."

"Was it fun?"

"You were there."

"I don't remember that." L looks at him curiously, and it makes Light feel sick.

"Of course you don't, because you're dead. Your dead body was there. Under the ground."

"Oh, was it?" L doesn't seem interested in getting an answer. He asks the question quite cheerfully, as if Light is simply commenting on the weather.

Light sits at his desk and leans back. "It was. You're nothing more than a hallucination. Now, I need to work, so could you stop being hallucinated? I need to focus on this, and pretending you're here probably uses up a lot of brain power."

"I would, but I'm not a hallucination. Would you like me to help you with that?"

Nothing makes sense any more. Light is quite sure he's sane, and sane people aren't supposed to hallucinate their rivals offering to help them. However, it makes much less sense if it's real. Firstly L is dead, and secondly L wouldn't be offering to help him study unless he was trying to manipulate him into revealing something about Kira. L can't really help in the Kira investigation if everyone thinks he's dead. "Why are you offering to help me?" he growls.

"Because we're friends, of course."

"Oh, yeah. Of course." Light nods absentmindedly. L needs to leave soon. Light needs to start working on the database of Kira victims or it might look like the task force is doing nothing, and wouldn't it be suspicious if the task force comes to a standstill as soon as Light takes over? He can use the fact he's not on the same genius level as L as an excuse, but it'll still be blatantly obvious that they aren't making progress. At least that way they feel like they're making progress, and that should be enough for a while.

L's arms are suddenly around him, and Light's tempted to push him away, though it's kinda comfortable. His chin rests on the top of Light's head. Light doesn't really mind, he's just a little confused. "Why are you doing that?"

"We're friends and I like touching you."

"Okay." Light rolls his eyes. He never expected L to be good at friendship, but he didn't quite expect his social skills to be this bad. "Just a quick tip, usually you should ask people before touching them."

"Thank you for the tip, Light-kun."

"Also, could you be a bit quieter? I don't want my parents to hear you. They might figure out you're alive."

"Sure."

It's hard to work with L there, silently nuzzling against his neck, but Light does it anyway. Maybe if he doesn't think about the hallucination for a few hours, it will leave him alone and he can be secure in his sanity again.

When he's far too tired to type in any more names, L is still there. Light's heart sinks. He should have disappeared by now if he isn't real, surely? Light turns to face him. "Um," he says, his throat strangely dry, "you need to go. I'm going to bed, and it'd be a bit weird for you to watch me sleep."

"Why would I watch you sleep?" L tilts his head and sticks his thumb in his mouth.

"I don't know, but you shouldn't."

"Okay. Your family is asleep, so I can leave through the front door."

"Well, bye."

"Goodbye, Light Yagami," L says with something that could nearly be a smile. "Have a nice night. You're going to dream about me."

Before Light can ask him what the fuck he meant by that last sentence, he's out the door. The worst thing is that he  _does_ dream about him.

* * *

**December 26** **th**

"Excuse me, sir?" Matt asks, having taken out his cigarette for the occasion, "do you know where Airlie Lane is?"

The man looks at them like he's surprised two kids are trying to find a murder scene. "It en't somewhere kids should be goin', yer know? Yer should be gettin' safe. There's a murderer 'round who's gone right off 'is head, and yer don't wanna get in 'is way."

"Actually," Near pipes up, "we're looking for our parents. They said they were going to Airlie Lane to visit our grandma. She lives down there and they're worried about her." She smiles at him, trying to look cute. Maybe he'll take pity on them if he thinks they're going to be safe. They're not going to be safe as long as B is alive, but that's not something you tell strangers.

He gives them directions to the murder scene, all the while informing them on 'stranger danger' despite being a stranger himself.

"It's weird that it's so close to Wammy's," Matt mutters to Near once they're in such a loud crowd that nobody will hear them.

She doesn't really think it's weird. She nods anyway. "He must be trying to send us a message."

"What makes you think the message is for us?"

"Because L's dead."

Matt's shoulder's sag. "Yeah."

"And also because we're probably the only ones smart enough to understand what he's saying."

He seems a little happier after that.

* * *

**December 11** **th**

Her name is Alyssa Reynolds. She has short black hair, ghostly pale skin, a gaunt frame, dark eyes. She is going to die in the next few hours. It will be easy for Beyond to become her.

She's just come from a flight from Heathrow. He follows her from the airport to a small apartment, staying in the shadows. It's small and sparsely furnished; she won't be living here long. She won't be living long either.

"When are you going back to England?" he asks her casually, when she's curled up on the sofa with a mug of coffee.

At first, Alyssa's shocked, all wide eyes and fists and trembling, but she quickly calms herself down, though he can see her eyes flicking to possible escape routes. "Two days – how did you get into my house?" She sounds more annoyed than scared.

Two days. Two days is fine. It won't take him two days to find her passport and make a plan. Nobody will notice if she's missing for two days. He flashes her a grin that he thinks is charming. She probably thinks it's terrifying, which is probably why she starts running.

He catches her before she can get anywhere. "Sing, my angel of music," he says. Her eyes widen for a split second, and then he digs his fingers in and she doesn't actually have eyes any more. It's then that she starts screaming. Singing. It doesn't really matter what it's supposed to sound like, because it sounds just like music to Beyond.


	3. chameleon

 

 

 

 

**December 26 th**

Paul Vine’s house has been cordoned off by very official-looking police tape, bright yellow-and-black against the misty colours of the rest of the street. Everything’s very blurred, except the sharp yellow-and-black edges. The houses, painted a creamy white, and the doors, dawn pink and muted blue, and the roses arranged in the front gardens; all of it says ‘you are welcome here’.

The police tape says ‘go away, you aren’t wanted’, and maybe that explains why Matt likes it more than he’s liked anything since Mello left. He takes a long drag on his cigarette, not really paying attention to it. “We need to get in there without being seen,” he says to Near, who is clinging to his arm. Again. The only reason he’s letting her is because if she doesn’t hold onto him, she starts walking like she’s drunk, and that will draw far too much attention.

“There isn’t anyone around to see us,” Near points out. The concussion must be having quite an effect on her, because there are people around. There are several police officers prowling around and babbling into radios, and there are odd, disorganized groups of people who are leaving flowers and letters at the house, but they’re sprinting away as soon as they’ve got rid of their offerings, as if it’s going to curse them if they linger too long. Death is not contagious. Superstition is.

There’s a girl walking up to them with smudged make-up and clothes that don’t quite match. She looks like she’s been crying. Matt instantly likes her. It’s not that she’s blonde and she’s wearing black leather over her ripped dress. It’s not that she reminds him of anyone or anything like that.

There’s a bunch of newspapers tucked under her arm. “They’re fifty pence each,” she says before he can even open his mouth to talk to her.

She isn’t wearing lipstick. He thinks he wants to kiss her. “I like you,” he tells her.

She looks at him like he’s gone mad. He thinks he might have, but he also really wants to kiss her. “Do you want a newspaper or not?”

“Yes,” Near answers for him. “I think we have enough money.”

Matt nods clumsily, fumbles for coins in his pocket, and manages to scrape together enough money. It’s embarrassing how little he’s got. Maybe £30 more before he has to resort to theft. “Uh, yeah. We have enough.”

The girl frowns at them. “It’s okay. If you’re that poor you can have it for free.”

He insists on paying her, though Near keeps tugging at his sleeve and glaring at him and mumbling about the fact they need to go. As soon as the girl (it turns out her name is Henrietta Fountain and she’s an artist and she’s sixteen and she lives in a tiny apartment miles from here and she looks just like Mello) manages to extricate herself from the conversation, Matt allows himself to listen to Near.

“Give me the newspaper,” is the first thing Near says once they are alone, followed by “We need to find somewhere to read this. Alone.”

**January 1 st**

Misa has a pack of glittery gel pens. There’s a code that paints a rainbow over the white pages of the Death Note: red is for arsonists, orange is for rapists, green is for violent assailants, blue is for murderers, and black is for those who dare defy KIra.

She’s using purple ink right now. It’s the pen she uses when she wants to dare herself to die.

The ink glistens in the bright light of the room. She’s chewing strawberry flavoured gum and listening to cheerful pop music. She’s writing ‘Amane’ in the Death Note. How far can she get without dying? It’s a rush that makes her hands shake and her head ring, but it’s also a strange euphoria that mingles with her blood and tells her she can cheat death. There’s one character left to write. Her whole body is buzzing. She might die. She might actually die right here in her pink room, dressed up like a doll, chewing on strawberry flavoured gum and with bland, bubbly Europop blasting into her ears.

When there’s just enough written that  it’s on the thin balance between killing her and not,  she slams the Death Note shut and leans back in her chair, breathing heavily. She could die in the next minute. Her heart’s beating much faster than it should be. Her heart might stop soon. If she does die it will all be rather romantic. All thirty-six kilograms of her - trembling body and tight nerves and fluttering heart and pretty little useless brain - suddenly becoming thirty-six kilograms of dead meat and bone. She wonders if it will hurt.

Misa checks the clock. If it happens, it’s going to happen in ten seconds. She wonders if Light will miss her. She wonders why Light hasn’t killed her himself yet. He hates her, it’s obvious, and it’s also obvious that the only reason he didn’t kill her was because Rem would kill him for it.

Rem’s  dead. Misa misses her. Do humans go to the same place as Shinigami do when they die?

She’ll find out in three – two – one – no, she isn’t dead. She picks up the red pen and gets back to work.

**December 26 th**

Near’s curled up on Matt’s lap, holding the newspaper open with the arm that isn’t broken. Matt’s watching Henrietta Fountain from the vantage point of a small bench. She’s wearing black gloves and a black jacket and her fringe is even across her forehead. He wonders if she likes chocolate.

“It’s rude to stare,” Near says absentmindedly. “And she’s not Mello.”

“I know she’s not – I – what do you mean?”

She turns another page in the newspaper. “Your fantasies about him –“

“I don’t have any fantasies about him!” he says a bit too fast, a bit too defensively.

“Then tell me all the ways Henrietta’s different from Mello,” Near says with a smirk. She leans back so that her head is nestled in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

“Uh – she’s a girl, and she’s probably not quite as smart, and – oh, and she isn’t an orphan, and she goes around selling newspapers so she has enough money to live on her own. And – and she’s a girl, so I’m not gay!”

“Right. Isn’t it strange how you decided you liked her so quickly after seeing her for the first time?”

Matt really, really wants to push Near off his lap and start beating her up again. Maybe that would shut her up about Mello. He doesn’t want to think about Mello until he’s safe, because while the murderer’s still out there there’s a possibility that Mello will die. He can’t think about him because if he does, then images sneak into his mind: images of Mello’s body split open, images of Mello’s bones being used as decorations, images of Mello’s blood painting the world red. It’s all rather disturbing and all rather tempting and it’s making Matt sick to think about this.

It’s Near’s fault Matt’s thinking about this.

There are already bruises blossoming on her porcelain-white skin, in shades of burgundy and indigo and grey. One of her bones is broken. He’s given her temporary brain damage. It’s still not _enough_. She made him think about Mello, and so she should pay for that. Her body should be split open, her bones should be used as decorations, her blood should paint the world in brilliant crimson.

Her breath is warm against his neck. “Tell me what it says, then,” he says, just to distract him from thoughts of wrapping his hands around her neck and squeezing the life out of her. Or kissing her. Either would be bad.

“The victim’s name was Paul Vine. He was 50 years old. His body was found in his bedroom. His head was found in the kitchen. He was a journalist. I don’t see why he was chosen to be killed, but I can’t actually see very clearly at all right now, thanks to the concussion you gave me.”

“And anything else interesting?”

“A woman went missing a few days ago after coming back to England. There is a strange article in the newspaper that was apparently Vine’s last piece of writing before his murder.”

“The font’s too small for me to read it,” he says with a shrug, hoping Near will believe him. “Can’t you just tell me what’s strange about it?”

“If you read it you’ll understand.”

Matt wants to get out his lighter and set the newspaper on fire. Set everything on fire. “Near. I am literally incapable of reading it. Please just tell me.”

“The sentences seem rather stilted. It is likely that whoever wrote this – I don’t think it was Vine -included some kind of secret message.”

“Well, what’s the secret message?” He wants to beat it out of her. Or maybe he just wants to beat her up. Probably both. “Surely you’ve figured it out by now.”

He doesn’t realise until she pulls herself away that his arms were draped around her. “I don’t know,” she says blankly, getting to her feet as she speaks. Matt feels like it would be polite to look up but he doesn’t.

“I thought you were meant to be smart.”

“I have a concussion. Because of you.”

Maybe he’s supposed to apologize for that. He gets out his lighter and starts flicking it on and off. It helps him focus a little. A cigarette would be better but he doesn’t have enough of them. “I’m so- “ he starts, then shakes his head, because he isn’t sorry. “No, I’m not. Once it’s dark we can get in the house and look for anything the killer left behind.”

“Beyond Birthday.”

“What?” He looks up then. Near’s wearing a rather unsettling vacant stare.

“The killer. His name. It’s Beyond Birthday.”

“That’s nice, I guess.”

“I feel drowsy. If someone with a concussion develops extreme drowsiness they should be taken to somewhere where they can have proper medical care.”

Matt checks his pockets; there’s enough money for one more night at the motel, though he’d rather save that in case it snows and they can’t sleep outside. “You can sleep on this bench, but you’re going to have to be cold, seeing as you didn’t bring anything warm.”

Near blinks at him. “Can’t you give me something warm? My body is not quite able to keep its own temperature constant right now, because of the temporary brain damage. The temporary brain damage that you caused.”

Matt sighs and gets out a red-and-black striped sweater from his backpack. “Fine. Put this over you. You can sleep on me if you want. But just until it’s dark. When it gets dark we’re going to go break into that house.”

Near lies down on the bench and gently places her head on Matt’s lap. She almost looks cute except that he’s fairly sure there’s nothing remotely cute behind those glassy eyes.  He puts the sweater over her and is quite relieved when she closes her eyes and he doesn’t have to look at them any more.

It’s still quite early in the evening, but the cold is still seeping into his bones. He almost feels sorry for Near, then reminds himself that he never feels sorry for anyone, except maybe Mello. The sky is a dull grey, and the street is a dull brown, and everything is so dull.

“Can I have my teddy please?” Near asks. Matt flinches like he’s been stung, but fishes the teddy out of Near’s backpack anyway. It’s a disgusting thing, covered in grime and messily sewed up scars, and he doesn’t really want to have it anywhere near him.

If he threw it into the road, it would be destroyed before Near could stumble her way over to it. Maybe it would destroy Near too. He tucks it into Near’s arms anyway. “Now go to sleep,” he orders.

“Please can you stroke my hair, too?” she mumbles into his coat. “Like you did yesterday? It helped.”

He does, but it’s only so she’ll fall asleep. By the time he stops, the sky is already beginning to darken. He lights up a cigarette; the smoke blends in with the hazy clouds.

**December 1 st**

L’s lying on his grave, his arms folded up on his chest, his eyes closed. If Light didn’t know better he’d say he was dead.

“Tell me about your childhood,” he says. The graveyard is empty; most of the headstones are so crumbled with age visitors wouldn’t know who was who anyway. L’s is a simple white cross. It doesn’t even have his name on.

“You wouldn’t be interested.”

“I don’t care. I want to know.” He wants to know everything. He wants to know L’s name, he wants to know why he isn’t dead, he wants to know why he is the way he is. He wants to know how he can kill him. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Knowing him enough to pull him apart.

L sighs. “I lived in England with my parents until I was sixteen. Then I became a detective. Is it really that interesting?” He resumes his familiar crouch, wiping the grass from the back of his shirt. “Why did you bring me here?”

“It’s your grave. I wanted you to see it while you’re alive.”

“Are you planning on putting me in it?”

“What? No, god, no,” he shakes his head, “I don’t want to kill you, you’re my friend.” It’s strange. The words feel like they could nearly be true.

**December 26 th**

Near wakes up to an indigo sky dotted with blurs that might be stars, and the smell of smoke. She clutches her teddy a little closer. “I’m awake,” she says quietly. She realises that Matt’s hands are around her shoulders, and that she is very cold, and that she can smell smoke.

“Why didn’t you wake up sooner?” he growls.

“I was tired. I’m sorry.” She sits up and shuffles onto the bench. There are constellations in her eyes that are hard to see past.

“Well, it’s nearly six in the evening and it’s getting dark. We need to get in the house. You better not fall asleep when you’re inside.”

Near rubs her eyes. “How are we going to get in? The police will stop us.”

He breathes smoke into her face. “Me and Henrietta’re going to distract the police, and then you’re going to just walk in.”

“Henrietta?”

“The newspaper girl. She talked to me when you were asleep.”

Near closes her eyes for a moment and attempts to focus. Her head feels like someone’s filled it with rocks. She doubts she’d be able to solve even a Rubik’s cube in this condition. The night is growing darker but the roads are cast in an orange light by the streetlamps. “What time are we – “

“Now,” Matt says, and throws his cigarette down. Near just stares as he puts it out with his boot. “Go on, just run to the house!”

It’s pretty impossible for Near to run without collapsing into an inelegant heap, so instead she just walks and hopes she’ll stay on her feet long enough to get to the house. Thinking is very hard right now. She recites prime numbers in her head until reaching the door.

The door’s unlocked. She assumes the police haven’t spotted her yet. The house is incredibly messy and the clutter is getting to her head. There are piles of old, unwashed clothes in every corner, and in the kitchen plates are piled high. It smells like something’s rotting, and everything probably is. The only room that seems somewhat clean is the study, and that just smells of blood.

There’s a shopping list on the desk next to the laptop. She stuffs it into her shirt. She briefly considers taking the laptop as well, though doesn’t because that would be ridiculous. The shopping list is also ridiculous but at least it isn’t hard to carry.

She can hear footsteps. It must be Matt. If it isn’t Matt she’s going to end up arrested. She can’t quite remember the law about this but she’s sure it will end badly for her in some way.

“This is the police,” someone says from not far away in a surprisingly gentle voice, “and you’re trespassing on a crime scene, so you’re going to have to come out, hmm?”

Near crawls under the desk and starts twirling her hair around her finger in an attempt to make her brain work the way it should be working. The way out should be coming to her so easily. Escaping should be as simple as passing a test.

They would have had a test today. She would have scored 100%.

She can’t see the top of the doorway from here. She can see the feet at the bottom. “Hey, kid,” the owner of the feet says, “come on out and we’ll get you back to your brother, alright? You can’t just come running in here, it’s a crime scene. You’re lucky your brother told us you were in here before you could get hurt!”

Near plays along as the little innocent kid, because that’s a part she’s been playing most of her life. She feels kinda sick. The whole point of being a detective is to help the law instead of dodge it.

“I got a shopping list,” she tells Matt once they’re on the way to Henrietta’s apartment.

Matt stops walking and presses his hands over his face. “A shopping list,” he repeats. “That’s all?”

“It’s got spilled ink on it. It looks like it was written in a hurry.”

“God, Near. You’re such an idiot.”

She nods.

 

 


	4. names

 

**December 26 th**

From the window in Henrietta’s kitchen the lights of Winchester twinkle like stars. Near is reading Paul Vine’s last letter to the newspaper over and over again, hoping that it will somehow make itself make sense if she repeats it in her head enough times. It still doesn’t make sense and she’s been sitting there for an hour trying to ignore Matt, who seems to be sucking Henrietta’s face off.

_50 babies are being born in the time it takes you to read these sentences. 22 people are dying. Every second is both a beginning and an end. There are 28 more people alive than there were when you started reading this, if I got the calculations right. Every day I am astonished by the world. As the year is coming to an end remember that everything will end, but everything also has a beginning._

The language sounds so off that it has to be a code. There must be some kind of hidden message here. If Near didn’t have a concussion she would have worked this out hours ago.

She looks at the shopping list again, but that doesn’t provide any clues either. A shop name, chewing gum, a litre of fruit juice, grated cheese, peanut butter, rich tea biscuits and wholegrain bread. It doesn’t sound like the kind of food a middle-aged man would want, so it must be somehow linked to the code. But she can’t work out how, which means she’s a failure. A total failure that definitely deserves a concussion. She reads the newspaper out loud to drown out the sounds coming from the bedroom.

Matt’s backpack is lying on the white carpet, a blob of dull brown in a brilliantly painted room. One wall is white, one red, one blue, and one yellow. There’s a five pound note sticking out of one pocket. She wonders if that would be enough to buy everything on the shopping list. Matt’s too busy with Henrietta to notice when she puts on one of his sweaters, takes the money, the newspaper and the shopping list, and simply leaves.

She goes around the back of the building to the street and finds that Henrietta’s apartment is just above the shop named in the shopping list. Inside is brightly lit and the colours are vivid. Everything seems fresh and wonderful and she didn’t realise it before, but she’s starving.

Near pushes against the door and it doesn’t open. She tries again, then throws herself against it. She falls through and curls up on the floor.

“Hey there, darling, you okay?” someone asks.

She is concussed, has a broken arm, and has run away from the only thing keeping her alive. Of course she is okay. The stranger does not need to know this. The stranger is a tall, pale boy with dark hair and lines under his eyes presumably from nights spent working here. He is holding out a hand to help her up. She gets up herself. “Yes, I am okay.”

“You don’t look okay. Do you normally jump at doors?”

“Yes,” she answers, and then ignores him in favour of finding chewing gum.

**December 2 nd**

“Are you staying anywhere?” Light asks L the second time L stays for the evening.

L stays silent.

Light glances over at him from the desk. “Because if you’re not, you can stay here for a while.”

L is crouched on the edge of the bed, gazing at Light blankly.

“If you’re tired, you can use my bed for now. I’m going to be working for a while, and you look like you need it.”

Light gets back to the mind-numbing work of typing up names he’d written down months before. After several hours he’s too tired to type any more, and turns around to find L lying on his side in the bed. His eyes are clothes and his chest is rising and falling evenly. Light doesn’t think he’s ever seen L sleeping before; even when they were handcuffed together, L wouldn’t sleep while Light was awake. He seems so vulnerable. He almost seems human. It’s quite disturbing.

The room is cold, so Light is, of course, just being nice when he gets into bed and shares his body warmth with L.

**December 26 th**

Henrietta’s bedroom is cluttered and messy, with different vibrant paint colours splashed over the walls and objects scattered over the floor and desks. The bed lies under a small window with a view of dark rooftops and skyscrapers. Henrietta is sitting on the edge, swinging her legs, smiling at Matt like there’s some secret he’s supposed to know.

He doesn’t quite know where to stand. Flicking his lighter on and off, he paces along the small empty gap in the floor. He wishes he had thought to bring his DS. Unlike the feelings of girls he’s just met, Pokemon moves are easy to predict. “Thanks for letting us in, Henrietta,” he mumbles.

“Call me Henry. Henrietta Fountain is such a posh name it’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah.” He steps closer. “But you think your name is ridiculous? Mine is Mail Jeevas.”

She sniggers. “Your parents must hate you.”

“Actually they probably did. They abandoned me as a kid.” Matt had been trying to cultivate a shaky smile, but it falls away immediately. He doesn’t particularly like thinking about his parents. They had just left him on a doorstep with nothing but a terrible name.

“Oh.” Henrietta pats the bed next to her, though Matt makes no effort to come over. “Should we talk about something more cheerful?”

“Sure.”

“So...” She glances around and bites her lip. It isn’t something that Mello would do. Mello would probably already have left – he isn’t someone who messes around with small talk. “What are you doing round here?”

“Like I said earlier, me and my little sister are looking for whoever murdered Paul Vine.”

“Your little sister is weird.”

“Yeah, but she’s smart. She was the one who wanted to try finding the murderer. She practically dragged me out here.”

Henrietta raises her eyebrows. It’s what Mello would do whenever Matt did anything stupid, like approach Mello with the wrong expression, or smiled at him a bit too much, or ‘accidentally’ touched him. “So you’re actually serious about finding the murderer.”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t that kinda dangerous?”

“Exactly. Like I said, my little sister’s weird.”

“She’s weird. But you’re nice, and also –“ she looks at his lips “- you’re also pretty hot.”

He swallows. “Yeah, I am.”

Then she gets up and grabs his face and kisses him. It isn’t the way it would be with Mello – she’s too gentle and she isn’t even trying to hurt him. Her arms are warm as they’re wrapped around him, but it’s not right because they aren’t even trying to strangle him. He stands there and lets it happen.

“I’m sorry, is this weird?” she asks quietly. “I don’t have much experience with this. I think it was love at first sight or something like that. But maybe that was just for me? You don’t seem to be enjoying this.” Henrietta lets go and steps away. “Sorry, no, that was –“ she wipes a tear from her eye “ – that was stupid of me. I’m a stupid person.”

If this was Mello Matt wouldn’t have let him let go.

“You can kiss me if you really want,” he tells Mello. “It wasn’t weird.”

“Oh, good,” he says with a grin, and goes back to kissing him. Matt returns it this time, concentrating on his yellow hair and his black leather and the fact that it’s definitely Mello and he’s not projecting his fantasies onto some misguided teenage girl.

After what seems like an eternity, Mello steps back and grabs Matt’s hand. “I like you, Mail Jeevas,” he says with a grin, pronouncing it totally wrong. It doesn’t matter that the name’s wrong, because everything else is right. It’s so perfect it could only be a dream.

“You too, Mello.”

The illusion breaks when Henrietta squints at him like he’s gone mad. “Who’s Mello?”

Matt laughs shakily. “I’ll go check on my little sister now.”

**December 26 th**

By the time Near’s found the wholegrain bread, she feels like fainting. The basket is far more heavy than it looks, and so is her entire body. She wrestles it up to the checkout anyway.

The pale boy scans in her purchases. “You sure you’re doin’ okay, sweetheart?” he asks, head tipped, genuinely seeming concerned. “You’ve been walkin’ like a drunk and you’re way too young for that stuff, so it’s something else, isn’t it?”

“I don’t tell my medical issues to strangers.”

“Oh, it’s a medical issue?” He grabs some headache pills from behind the counter and stuffs it, along with the rest of the objects, into a plastic bag, then smiles at her again. He really does genuinely look like a nice person, which means that he’s evil and the pills probably contain poison. “That’ll be six pounds.”

Near holds out the five pound note. “It isn’t enough, so you can take out the pills.”

“I’ll pay, don’t you worry, sweetheart. Keep yourself safe, okay?” He passes her the plastic bag and receipt, glances above her head, and takes out money of his own to pay.

“Thank you.”

“That’s okay, honey. Now get home, you don’t want to to be wanderin’ around so late, not when there’s crazy murderers around.”

Not a minute after Near leaves, the lights in the shop flick off. It must be nearly eight in the evening. The moon is covered up with dense clouds, and streetlamps are the only things fighting off darkness. Near sits on the pavement, leaning against a streetlamp, and reads the letter in the newspaper again and again until the words are starting to blur in the orange light. She still doesn’t understand how to pick out the right sentence. There should be some kind of key in the newspaper, but she’s tried everything that looks remotely promising. At this point she’s close to concluding that Paul Vine was not a very good writer.

At this point she reaches into the bag to get the rich tea biscuits out. The receipt falls out, and she notices that the headache pills are listed first with a price of 0p.

The first word of the letter is 50.

It wouldn’t really make sense if this was the code – she doubts Paul Vine would bother making a code based on food prices  - but it’s worth trying.

The chewing gum is listed as 20p. She skips 2 words, assuming that the zero means nothing, and finds ‘are’. The fruit juice cost a pound, so she skips 10 words. ‘you’. This is a promising start. She continues with the rest of the prices.

“50 are you alive I am coming,” she says to herself, and yawns. “50, are you alive? I am coming.” It is at this point that Matt discovers her. She looks up at him and blinks. “50? Are you alive? I am coming.”

“What are you talking about?” Matt says flatly. “Why did you sneak out?”

“It’s the code. In the newspaper letter. I went to the shop and bought the things on the shopping list and then the prices of them matched up with words. And the words were 50? Are you alive? I am coming.”

He kneels down beside her. “Okay, you need to come inside, or you’re going to get cold and probably die.”

“Thanks to the concussion you gave me, I don’t think I can walk.”

“Fine, I’ll help you,” he growls. Near often wonders why he acts like he hates her. They stagger back to Henrietta’s apartment together, with Matt doing the actual walking and Near trailing behind him weakly.

The door’s open. Matt frowns when he notices this. “Henry?” he calls. “You still in there?”

“Why are you so shocked?”

“I locked the door when I came out. She asked me to. Said she was worried the murderer would come in.” He shakes his head. “It’s probably nothing.”

They walk in and almost immediately find Henrietta. She’s lying on her side by Matt’s backpack, but her arms are lying in the corner.

 


	5. love

**December 26th**

“Matt, check the body for wounds, and please bring me my backpack.”

At first Matt isn’t sure whose body it is. It’s lying on its front, and the yellow hair has spread out into a halo, like Mello’s did when he was sleeping next to Matt. He’s overcome, again, with thoughts of Mello being dead. There’s a dull thud in his chest.

“Please bring me my backpack so I can start trying to solve this.” Near’s voice is surprisingly sharp.

Matt just stands there. Useless again. He’s always been useless in situations like these: even back at Wammy’s, he’d relied on Mello’s hard-heartedness far too much. Mello would be able to stand here and look at Matt’s body like it wasn’t even human, he’d be able to figure out who was doing this, he’d be able to fucking kill whoever had done it. Matt, though. Matt’s not even sure his legs even feel like standing any more. He just keeps looking at Mello, who’s dead.

There are two huge holes where his arms used to connect to his shoulders, and each hole has an accompanying pool of blood. His legs are splayed out to the sides. Matt feels sick to think about the pain Mello must have been in –

“She’s dead, and staring at the body won’t change that. Would you please retrieve my backpack from the floor? Due to the brain damage you so kindly gave me, I – “

Matt picks up the backpack and flings it in Near’s direction. Hopefully it would hit her. Make her shut up for once. He just needs to think without her annoying little voice cutting in every time he’s close to clearing his mind.

“Thank you for hitting me with this. It helped a lot.” Her voice is as flat and bored as usual. “Examine the wounds. The killer often left clues to the next victim in the murder scene. “

He looks at the body. There’s no way he’s going to touch it. “Near – “ he starts, but cuts off in frustration when he turns around. Near has got out a toy truck from her bag and is pushing it back and forth along the paint-stained floor. “Near, are you even trying?”

She doesn’t look up. “I’m trying more than you are. Check the body for wounds. The killer would leave clues in the wounds, according to Mello – “

At the thought of Mello, rational thought abruptly gives up. He grabs Near, pulls her up against the wall, and wraps his hands around her throat. It would be so easy to kill her right now. If he cut her body up afterwards, then he could just leave her here, bleeding out. They wouldn’t even suspect him. They’d know it was that serial killer. He could kill Near and get away with it. Mello would be so pleased.

Near rolls her eyes and gently kisses him. It is highly unnatural and it makes Matt want to kill her even more, if that’s even possible. Still, he’s so confused that he loosens his grip on her neck.

“That was disgusting,” she says a moment later, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “Now that you’ve calmed down a little, please go and inspect the body for clues. If we want to find Mello, then we need to know where our killer will strike next.”

Matt steps back. His mouth feels like something’s rotted on it. Near slips free and folds herself back up into her cross-legged position.

“Oh, and please do try not to attack me every time I mention Mello.”

Matt swallows dryly and heads over to the body.

* * *

 

**January 3** **rd**

Like the good girlfriend she is, Misa is watching TV with Light’s family. Well, Sayu and Sachiko. Soichiro is still busy chasing after killers he’ll never catch.

It’s strange, because if he had cared to come home, he would have found a killer sitting on his usual place on the couch. It’s so funny to Misa that she’s the one here, smiling at Sachiko, laughing with Sayu, and they think she’s innocent, while Soichiro is aiming in an entirely wrong direction. All thanks to her Light. It’s incredibly risky, but it’s just so fun.

Once she’s filled an entire page with neatly written black rows, her mind is beginning to feel dull. What’s even the point of killing? Maybe she’d know if she died. It’s weird. She doesn’t really feel in control of herself any more. It’s like she’s watching as a pretty blonde girl acts out her life.

Maybe it’s the Death Note controlling her.

Misa takes out her purple gel pen and writes: “2pm, January 15 th . Hangs herself in her bedroom.” She hasn’t tried controlling her own actions like this before. If she writes just one stroke too much, she won’t be able to fix it by quickly scribbling her name again so the two death sentences will cancel each other out. Because of this, she pauses before writing herself in. Her pen hovers over the page for a moment too long.

“Misa,” says Sayu suddenly, “can you help me with my maths homework? Light’s probably busy.”

Light’s always busy these days. He won’t even see Misa so much. She still loves him, of course; she’ll never stop loving him. She’s just worried he’s already stopped loving her. She’s just worried he’s found someone better.

When she looks down, she finds she’s written Sayu’s name in the empty space.

“Of course Misa-Misa will help you with your maths homework,” she says. She laughs quietly. Light’s going to kill her for this. Maybe she’s going to die for real. How exciting.

* * *

 

**December 10** **th**

The first person to walk in on L and Light making out is Matsuda. This is mostly because this is the first time they’ve made out, and Matsuda has a habit of walking into literally anything.

It’s strange, though, how little Matsuda responds to L being alive.

See, Light had tried to dissuade L from turning up at meetings, he really had, but there seemed to be nothing that could stop him. No matter what he does, L will be somewhere nearby. This time, he’d left his bedroom to get some coffee for everyone, when L had slunk out from Sayu’s bedroom, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into Sayu’s closet.

It had been so dark in there at first that Light hadn’t realised what was going on. Really, it was L’s fault that they were kissing right now. He’d been the one who started it, like with pretty much anything. Not that Light’s complaining. Kissing L is much more satisfying than kissing Misa, if only for the fact that L doesn’t smell and taste like a perfume advert. Of course it’s just that. That’s L’s fault too.

So when Matsuda opens up the closet and finds them, Light’s instant reaction is to blurt out, “It’s L’s fault!”

His eyes had been closed during the kissing – it had felt more natural this way – so the first thing Light sees is Matsuda’s cringing face.

“Ah – okay.” Matsuda nods, his eyes wide, and his smile wide too, far too wide to look natural “I’ll – I’ll tell them you’ll be there in a minute.”

It’s only after Matsuda leaves that Light looks into the newly illuminated closet and finds that L isn’t even in there. He must have snuck out before Matsuda came in, Light reasons. It’s the only sensible justification for how Matsuda didn’t see him.

* * *

 

**December 26** **th**

Near sorts her dice neatly into lines of threes and fours. It is rather therapeutic. Her neck aches and her head is still fuzzy and her mouth feels weird and she’s considering leaving Matt to get murdered.

He’s knelt over the body like he’s praying to it. Near finds this strangely funny, because she knows that he wouldn’t really ever pray to anyone but Mello. And Mello would only pray to God. Strange how it goes round like that. She wants to laugh, but this is a murder scene. It would be inappropriate. Not that that even matters to her any more.

She’s leaning against the red wall, which one of Henrietta’s legs is pointed at. The left leg is pointed at the yellow wall. Matt is kneeling between her legs, so all Near can see is his back. There are better things to think about than Matt’s back. She concentrates instead on lining up the dice so that they’re all in a perfectly regular square, with the numbers on the top adding up to the same whichever straight line you choose to use.

After she has done this five times, Matt is done. “Apart from the arms, nothing was removed. She was killed by a slash to the neck. Quite deep – almost to the bone. There are two slashes horizontally along her right shin, and six on her left shin.”

Near can’t think of anything particularly useful about this. “Maybe he’s messed with something in the house? That’s what Mello told me he’d do to indicate clues.”

Matt stands up and scans the room vacantly. He isn’t looking at his best – his hands are hanging limply by his sides. He’s adopted a slouch he doesn’t normally have. Near has learnt that this happens when he is tired or angry, but not when he is angry enough to attack her. She knows far too well what ‘angry enough to attack her’ looks like.

Suddenly, his body goes tense. “What is it?” Near asks.

He points into Henrietta’s bedroom. She can’t see into it from here. “What?”

“There’s a – wrapper, a chocolate bar wrapper. It wasn’t here earlier.” His breathing rate has suddenly increased, Near observes with her usual clinical detachment. “Mello’s been here – Mello was – Mello’s with the murderer. I – “

That isn’t the only possible conclusion. Near is drawn towards another one. “Or maybe Mello is the murderer. He knows enough about Beyond Birthday to replicate his crimes. It would explain why he picked to murder someone with such a similar appearance to Mello. He may have wanted to cause you as much emotional pain as possible.”

“Shut up, Near,” Matt growls.

Near obediently shuts up.

“Nobody but us knows that Henrietta is dead, so we can stay here for the night. Nobody will come in. I’ll take her bed and you can use some of her clothes as blankets. Then in the morning, we’re going to find out who’s going to die next. We’re going to find – “ Matt stumbles on his words slightly. The look of blazing ambition in his eyes seems so fizzle out. “We will find Mello, won’t we?”

Near doesn’t answer, and instead picks up the dice and drops them one by one into her backpack. “Could you please stroke my hair to help me get to sleep?”

He turns in the doorway, then laughs and slams the door. Near hadn’t really expected him to indulge her request. There was just a small chance of him even acknowledging she’d asked. Anyway, she’d find it hard to sleep whatever he did. The room had a freshly-dead body lying in the middle – anyone would find it hard to be comfortable.

To her surprise, however, her position curled against the wall is so comfortable she finds herself sinking into sleep. During the night, she briefly wakes to find that she is in a bed and that Matt is stroking her hair gently. She decides not to let him know she’s awake – he’d probably kill her for it.

  
  


  
  


 


	6. chocolate

**December 31st**

When Light finds L watching TV, he’s instantly angry.

“You’re risking my mom seeing you!”

“Your mother is out shopping with your sister.”

“You shouldn’t be hanging around here without me with you.”

“How possessive of you. There’s something interesting on, so be quiet.”

Light sits down next to L. It reminds him of the days when they were handcuffed together. A part of him wants to go back to that, but he’s got to put L’s safety first. If they were handcuffed together, L wouldn’t be able to hide the fact he was alive.

The news is on: something about three murders in Winchester and a similarly mutilated body recently found in Los Angeles. Light’s fingers are itching for a pen. But there isn’t a name yet. A heavily pixelated picture, probably from a security camera, pops up, showing two teenagers. Apparently these are the suspects, but their faces aren’t visible, so even Misa won’t be able to kill them.

“Hmm,” L mutters. Light turns to look at him. “Isn’t it strange that the second Kira hasn’t killed the murderer yet?”

Obviously it’s because she wouldn’t be able to find out the names. Too much of the face is obscured, but Light shouldn’t know that. “Yes, that is strange, Ryuzaki.”

“It wouldn’t be because the murderer hasn’t been found. We both know that if Kira was able to kill them, those two teenagers would be dead by now.”

“It is very strange,” Light mutters, “but why are you telling me about this?”

“It was interesting.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Nevertheless, I wouldn’t be surprised if Kira was interested in a crime where the killer had not yet been found.” L plucks a dusty sweet from his pocket and inserts it into his mouth. “And, following from that, you would try and mask your interest in the case in order to mask that you are Kira. Therefore you are Kira.”

“Ryuzaki, why are we in a relationship?”

“Stop avoiding the subject, Kira.”

“If you're so sure I'm Kira, then why are you so affectionate towards me? It seems to me that you're just trying to force me into saying something incriminating.”

“Yes, I am. Anyway we're not in a relationship. I wouldn't fall in love with a mass murderer.”

Light's heart plummets as L turns away to pay attention to the TV. If everyone thinks L is dead, then nobody will know if he's killed. It would be so easy. He'd just have to get his name, which must be written in Rem's Death Note. Except it can't be, because L is alive. He remembers seeing something in the note, though – maybe that's how L faked his death? He just doesn't remember what that something was.

 

* * *

**December 27th**

By the time Matt wakes up and comes stumbling out the bedroom, Near is sitting against the wall, sorting Henrietta’s vast collection of acrylic paint tubes into the rainbow. There are hardly any duplicates, though there must be hundreds of paints.

“Morning,” Matt greets her gruffly.

“I don’t think Henrietta Fountain was a very good artist,” she says back. “She has all these colours, although according to colour theory, it should only take five acrylic paints to create every colour. Therefore she does not have the art skill necessary to mix her own colours, leading her to purchase all these.” She gestures to the lines of paint tubes. “This could be a useful clue.”

He sits down next to her and picks up a tube. He’s messing up the pattern. How disrespectful of him. “Glorious Clay. Weird name for a paint. It’s just red.” He puts it back down in the wrong place. “I don’t know why she needs five Glorious Clays.”

“Maybe because she likes Glorious Clay.”

“Yeah, but there are five –“ he pauses to pick up another tube “ – five Burnt Ambers too, and five Ocean Greens, and five Sparkling Fountains.” Matt puts them back at random, so that Near’s carefully arranged rainbow is cut into by chunks of random colour. “There aren’t that many of anything else.”

“Sparkling Fountain,” Near repeats slowly. “Henrietta Fountain.”

Matt leaps up from the ground and grabs Near’s shoulders. He pulls her up and wraps his arms around her in a way that feels like he’s crushing her lungs. “That’s it! You’re a genius, Near!” She wonders why he’s trying to attack her if he really thinks she’s a genius. She goes limp and slumps against the wall. He isn’t going to get a reaction from her this time, even if he does break her other arm.

He doesn’t attempt to hurt her for a long time. “What are you doing?” she asks eventually. “Is this something you do to Mello?”

Matt lets her go, tipping his head to one side. “What do you mean, what are you doing?” he says. He twists his voice into a thin, whiny mockery of hers. “Of course I do it to Mello, we’re friends.”

Why would you want your friend to hold you so that you could not move away? “You stop your friends from leaving you by holding them against a wall?”

“Oh my god,” Matt mutters. “Please tell me you know what hugging is.”

She thinks she had read something about hugging once, in a book with bright colours and irrelevant pictures and a ridiculously simple story line. Near doesn’t think she’s ever hugged anyone. Physical contact is unnecessary and in her experience, unpleasant.

“Never mind.” He sighs, tugs at his striped sleeve. “What I meant is, the paints might be a clue to who the next victim is. Their last name would be in one of the duplicate paint tubes.”

This is possibly the most intelligent thing Matt has said in years.

For the next hour they both rummage through the apartment for any more paint tubes that might provide a clue. Near is scared that if they don’t find every single one, they’ll miss the murder, so she continues searching while Matt sorts the paints according to whether they have duplicates or not. She finds an Aurora Forest in the cutlery draw next to an alarmingly large knife, and another in a box of blonde hair dye. There are several inserted into taps and lamps. She wonders how Henrietta could have possibly lived here for so long with paint everywhere.

In the search they find: two Aurora Forests, three Titanium Silvers, a Cobalt Grey, an Amaranth Pink, three bras, and a Mountain Meadow. By the end there are a huge array of colours scattered over the floor, with thirty individual tubes in one pile.

Five Sparkling Fountains, five Aurora Forests, five Titanium Silvers, five Ocean Greens, five Glorious Clays, and five Burnt Ambers.

They celebrate with the biscuits Near brought yesterday. It is only when the pack is finished that they realise they have no idea what to do next to actually find the next victim. They also have no idea what to do with the body of the last victim. It's just lying there looking dead. Near's been trying to ignore it. The arms in particular are looking repulsive.

“Perhaps one of the residents would know if there were people with those names in town?” Matt says half-heartedly. “Not that they'd tell us. I wouldn't trust anyone new wandering around here, myself, not with two murders in four days.”

“Someone in the shop downstairs helped me last night. I wouldn't trust him at all, but he could be useful. You should ask him about those names.” Near twirls her hair around her finger. “Since the shop's directly underneath this apartment, he may have also heard something, so you should ask him about that. He'll be easy to recognise – he's got these weird black lines under his eyes.”

“How do you know he'll be there?” Matt stands up. He retrieves a thick jacket from the bedroom. “I'll go, but he probably won't be there.”

“Why wouldn't he be there?”

Matt puts his palm over his nose for no apparent reason, then lowers his arm to shrug the jacket on. “Have you really never – ah, fuck it. I should be back in half an hour. Don't come and try to find me, you might get killed.” He leaves without looking back at her, and slams the door so slowly that the shop assistant must have heard.

Near gets out her favourite toy robot and lies in the same position as Henrietta Fountain.

 

* * *

**January 5th**

At night, L disappears like a ghost to wherever he sleeps when he's not sleeping with Light. It is this night that Light finally confronts Ryuk. The shinigami might be bound to Misa's notebook, but he still drops around Light's house for the occasional apple.

“Ryuk!” he calls. He'd entered his room just as Ryuk was phasing through the wall.

“Light-o!” he cackles, sliding back out of the wall. It's hard to tell if Ryuk is looking at him. It's hard to tell if Ryuk thinks this is funny – his voice isn't usually this amused, is it? Light has forgotten how it usually is. It's been months, and he's spent those months mostly listening to L. “Good to see you, Kira!” He bites into an apple with a ferocity that makes Light wince.

“Ryuk, I have a question for you.”

“I thought you'd figured everything about the Death Note out? You don't normally need my help. I don't wanna end up like Rem.”

Light fakes a dull chuckle. “I'm not going to ask you to protect me. It's just a simple question. I'm sure even Rem would have known the answer. How could someone escape dying if I was to write their name down?”

Ryuk's laugh here is not faked, but the way that his body remains perfectly still as his head shakes is unsettling. “Someone escaped your judgement?”

“No.”

“Hah... you messed up, Light-o.”

“Kira never makes a mistake!” he snarls, leaning towards Ryuk, glaring as well as he can. He didn't mean to let that slip out so loudly. He's let Kira become so much of him that he's become like an animal, willing to kill in defense. His mind flicks back to the pen smooth against the sides of his fingers, scrawling down 'Lind L. Taylor'. Light shakes it off. He isn't anything like an animal. He's the most human person he's ever known.

Ryuk stands there, his arms hanging nearly to the floor. His purple lips are twisted into a grotesque grin. “Well, Light-o, there is no way for someone to escape death by a Death Note, as long as the person who wrote the name did it right.”

Rem must have betrayed him. It's the only possible explanation. She couldn't have written L's name. She must have written Watari's name and died of that. But then why had L appeared to die? Had he used a double? But it would have been impossible for a double to be so identical to L. Maybe he had been revived somehow?

“What you thinkin'?” Ryuk prompts him. His mouth hangs open as he chews the apple.

“Is it possible to revive someone after they've been killed by a Death Note? Are there any rules about that?”

“All humans, without exception, will eventually die,” Ryuk recites. “After they die, they go to nothingness. Once they are dead, they cannot be brought back to life.”

“You told me yourself, Ryuk, there are rules you haven't told me about. Aren't there any that could let someone come back to life?”

“Hah, no. That's completely impossible.”

 

* * *

**December 27 th**

The man at the till looks vaguely familiar, and his face drops under sandy-brown hair when Matt enters. He had seen his eyes long enough, though, to know this isn't who Near was talking about.

The assistant who lopes towards Matt, however, is scrawny and pale, with black hair and black lines under his eyes. It looks like an experiment with eyeliner gone very, very wrong. “Hey, darling, how can I help you?” he croons. His voice is too chirpy for the morning, which is cold and grey and grimy. The sun hasn't even risen yet. The store is completely empty, except from these two, and a large model of Santa Claus that feels like it's looking at him.

“Give me information or I'll kill you,” Matt says.

“You know,” the man says in a singsong voice, “you didn't have to threaten me. I'm a very nice person; I would have told you anyway.”

“Oh.” He drops the aggression, and folds his arms across his chest. “Did you hear anything from upstairs last night?”

“Many things.”

“Anything suspicious?”

“Anything could be suspicious.”

“Anything before you closed up?”

“Just before I closed up? I was busy talking to a little girl, so I wasn't listening for suspicious sounds. That must have been near... ten in the night.” He says 'near' in a strange whisper, then picks up a marshmallow snowman and begins chewing on it loudly.

“Near?”

“I'm not very precise with timing,” he says as he swallows, “we haven't got a working clock in here.”

“You said near in a strange way.”

He stares at Matt like he's just suggested that humans have wings. “Did I?” He sounds somewhat awestruck.

“Oh, for god's sake. Did you hear anything strange from upstairs while you were locking up?”

The man starts chewing on his thumb, looking above Matt's head as if that will remind him. “Hmmm... no. Need anything else?”

Matt is beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable. “Are there any people here called Clay, Amber, Green, Silver or Forest?” He hopes he got the names right.

“Do you mean in the whole of Winchester?”

“Yeah.”

“Probability says: yes.”

“So do you know anyone with those as their last names? Any of them?”

“Well, yes. All of them often visit this shop. What an odd coincidence.”

“Tell me about them.”

The man leans on the model of Santa and turns to grin at the boy at the counter. “Micky, would you make us some coffee? I think your little friend here's going to be staying for a while.”

It's almost seven in the morning when the shop assistant finally lets Matt leave, now equipped with excessively detailed information about nine people, three chocolate bars, and a pack of cigarettes. Judging by the way sunlight is starting to creep over the horizon, he's been away for much more than the time he promised Near.

Oh well. She'd probably have dealt with it well. He thinks she likes being alone, so an extra few minutes shouldn't bother her too much. He sits at the bench they'd sat at yesterday evening and smokes away half his pack of cigarettes.

“Near?” he calls into the apartment as he pushes the door open slightly. There's no reply. “Near, are you in here?” Her toys are still scattered all over the floor. A robot is next to his foot. He steps on it and watches as it splinters into sharp fragments of plastic. “Did you hear that crunching sound? That was your robot. I'll do that to the rest of your toys if you don't come out.”

It's mean, yeah, but if she's going to try and worry him by hiding, she needs to know it won't work. Also he's always wanted to break her stuff. Matt glances around for more toys to destroy and notices the body's been disturbed. A price tag is hanging from the collar of Henrietta's jacket that wasn't there earlier.

Maybe he'd just missed it. It had been dark and he'd been too much in shock to look for price tags.

Or maybe the murderer had returned to look at the body, found Near, and killed her.

The thought of Near being dead makes bitter fear rise in Matt's throat. He's never thought this about anyone but Mello before, but he doesn't want Near to be dead.

“Near?” he calls again. He expects no response and gets no response.

Okay, he needs to be more rational. If Near's alive she'll probably be in the bedroom, and if she's dead that's where her body will probably be, so he'll check the other rooms first, so he can keep pretending for longer that she isn't dead.

If Mello's with the murderer, Near is definitely dead.

Near is not in the bathroom. Matt checks the kitchen and finds a cutlery drawer hanging out. It seems perfectly innocuous until he remembers looking for paint tubes, and Near finding a large knife in this drawer. The knife is gone now.

His mind is suddenly flooded by images of Near with the knife between her shoulders, her face pressed against the ground, blood making a pool under her that stains her white pajamas red. Near with lines carved into her chest. Near split up into ten parts and scattered around the house for Matt to find. He grips onto the fridge door to try and regain a grip on reality.

He stands outside the bedroom for minutes that seem to stretch forever, his hand tightening and then releasing the door handle. At some point his breathing had sped up – he waits for it to slow down before he finally opens the door.

The knife is glinting on the unmade bed. Near is sitting on the floor constructing a tower of cards. Despite the wave of relief that takes his breath away, Matt kicks the cards.

Near only looks up once the flurry of cards has settled on the ground. “Hello, Matt,” she says blankly.

He wants to kick her and watch her topple like the house of cards toppled. Instead he sits down on the other side of the cards. “Don't do that again,” he says softly. “I thought you'd died.”

“I don't see why you'd care if I died.”

Just like that, the illusion of fragile friendship shatters. “I don't,” he barks, “you're just useful for trying to find Mello. Why didn't you answer when I asked you if you were in here?”

“The vibration of the sound could have made my cards fall over. Did you get any useful information?”

Matt sighs and stands up. He moves the knife away from the edge of the bed, then lies down. “Yeah, but afterwards you need to tell me all you know about the murderer. You've barely told me anything and it might be useful.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Apparently everyone with the paint tube names visits that shop regularly. Sparkling Fountain is Henrietta Fountain, we already knew that. Apparently she moved in here about a month ago and comes into the shop every morning to buy... I can't remember, just - stuff. He asked me where she was this morning.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him I was getting her stuff; now shut up, this is probably important.”

Forest Green – Sarah Green or Robert Green, a couple of teachers that visit the shop most weeks. They're in their late 20's, and almost permanently stressed. Their purchases tend to be sugary energy drinks or large bags of sweets. The man has an annoying tendency to talk on his phone while buying, though the woman is notably quieter, and often visits without her husband. They live on Vernier Street, which is just a road away from where Paul Vine was killed.

Glorious Clay – Gabriel Clay, an easily angered teenager, who buys almost anything that's on sale. His visits are irregular, but in every one he skulks around like the store, hands deep in his hoodie pockets. Twice he had been caught shoplifting. If you walked around the city at evening, the shop assistant had said, you'd find him with a gang of teenagers hanging around MacDonald's. He lives alone in an apartment like this one.

Burnt Amber doesn't quite fit, but the closest match is Stanley Amberwood, a meek old man who visits each Tuesday and Friday for the Daily Mail. He's a widower with a frail grip on the modern world but a passion for gardening and making jam. He'll never enter the shop if there's a teenager in there.

Titanium Silver – Bethany Silver and her child seem like they'd fit better in London. She visits once a week, Friday at exactly six minutes past three in the afternoon, pushing her pram in front of her like it doesn't weigh anything. She buys a loaf of bread, a bottle of semi-skimmed milk, and three bananas. Her child is always dressed in green and holding a stuffed frog toy. It feels like deja vu every time she visits.

Lastly, Aurora Forest – Ellie Forests, a woman with long blue hair and a contagious smile. She must be in her thirties but she skips into the shop like a seven year old every time. She doesn't visit often, but when she does she buys sweets and condoms, and makes laughing conversation with whoever's at the till.

“How interesting,” says Near in a tone that shows she isn't really interested at all. Which pisses Matt off, because his mouth is really dry from reciting all that.

“So what do you know?”

Near starts curling her hair around her finger. She looks at her feet as she talks. “The killer's name is Beyond Birthday. He grew up at Wammy's with L -”

“He knew L?” Matt's suddenly interested. Up til now, he thought that the only person who knew L was L himself.

“Yes, they grew up together. Beyond was obsessed with L, or rather obsessed with surpassing him. So he acted as L, dressed as L, essentially became L. The major difference was that Beyond could see people's names and lifespans by looking at them.”

“That's impossible.”

“Yes, it is.” Near starts working on her card tower again. Matt kicks it over again, and she glares at him. He grins at her. She deserves it for making him think she was dead. “L eventually became successful as a detective, while Beyond was forgotten. He tried to surpass L by creating a crime that he couldn't solve, and so he murdered people.”

“The first person to die was – I don't remember his name, but it was strange, and the initials were BB. Beyond drugged him and strangled him with a rope. He left four straw dolls on the walls, and left slashes in the victim's chest that indicated the location of the next murder. I don't remember how.”

Matt grunts, more in irritation than amusement. He sits up and glares down at Near, who is sorting the cards. “Isn't your memory meant to be really good?”

“Mello told me this while I was drugged and paralysed. I think he intended for my memory of the event to be damaged.”

“Mello _drugged and paralysed you_?”

“On a regular basis. It allowed him to gloat without me getting away.” Near shrugs and restarts construction of the card tower. “The second murder victim, Quarter Queen, had her skull crushed inwards. Her eyes were crushed too. There were three straw dolls on the wall. The fact that her eyes were crushed led to the next victim's address. At the third location, two straw dolls were hung on the wall.”

“So it's a countdown?”

“That's the point of it.”

Matt kicks down the card tower.

“The third victim's initials were also BB. She was killed by blood loss, with her arm and one leg removed. The rest of her body was arranged to form a clock, which gave the location of the final murder. However, instead of killing someone else, Beyond planned for himself to be the last one to die. Before he died, he was found by an FBI detective and saved. Now, presumably, he is free and murdering again.”

“So how can we use this to figure out who the next victim is?”

Near smiles up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Actually I've already narrowed it down to three of those seven.”

Matt rolls his eyes and lowers himself down from the bed to sit right next to her, where the card tower had previously been. He had been expecting Near to shuffle away or at least lean to the side, but no. She stays close in a remarkably unsettling way. “How?” he says.

“The murders he committed the first time around were all designed so that someone would find the body. Henrietta Fountain's murder was designed so that we would be the ones to find it, and the next one will be the same. Therefore the victim will be Gabriel Silver, Stanley Amberwood, or Ellie Forest, because Gabriel and Stanley definitely live alone, and I suspect Ellie does as well. The remaining clue to which of these will die should be on Henrietta's body.”

Near's theory is nice and Matt wishes it would be true so that they could find Mello faster. But there's an obvious hole. “He can't know we would find her body, though. We only found her body because she invited us to stay the night.” It's almost a shame to pick her guesses apart. She'd seemed so sure of it.

“Actually, he knew that would happen,” she says. She looks bored as she reaches up to play with her hair. “There's blonde hair dye in the bathroom and the leather jacket she's wearing is so new she hasn't taken off the price tag. Beyond probably set her up to look like Mello and bribed her to take us in. Then he killed her.” She shrugs. “He'll be somewhere around here. We know he looks like L, so that might help us.”

Matt sits there quietly, wondering how many of Henrietta's actions were just part of the act to lure them in. He realises with a chill that whoever's doing this must know he likes Mello. Somehow, that's much more unpleasant than the fact that there's a murderer on the loose.

“How would knowing he looks like L help us? We don't actually know what L looks like,” he says, just to get back to the familiarity of contradicting Near.

“It won't help us,” Near says blankly, “but what it implies will. He's trying to find L, but he can't do that alone, so he's going to force us to help him find him. Which means he won't kill us or Mello.”

Matt takes comfort in the fact that both him and Mello will stay alive together. Maybe they'll be able to get rid of Near at some point.

Then he feels guilty for thinking that, so he hugs her.

 


	7. perfection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for uploading, like, three chapters in one go. i'm better at uploading regularly on ff.net, sorry!

**January 6 th**

“Misa,” Light says into the phone, “can you come over to my house, and bring your diary? You know, the one you wrote about L in. We need to talk about something.” He keeps his voice quiet so Soichiro won't hear. He needs his sleep more than ever, now that one of the shoulders that bore the load of the Kira investigation is gone.

“Sure!” she squeals in her usual irritating manner. He still can't understand why she thinks he loves her. Why would he have Misa when he could have L?

L is crouched next to Light on his bed, his thumb in his mouth, his eyes wide open and staring. He's been sitting there for at least three hours, barely moving. It's strange – he's barely eaten any sweets since he's been here, and when he leaves, nobody ever sees him. Light brushes those thoughts away. If L couldn't sneak away without anyone seeing him, he wouldn't be the world's best detective. “Save the affection for me,” he states dryly. As if Light would just obey him like that.

“What will you do if I don't?” He will, but not because he likes L, just because he dislikes Misa.

“Maybe I'll disappear forever - “

“That isn't fair!”

“Are you okay, Light?” Misa babbles. “I'm just about to leave, so - “

Light ends the call and tosses his phone across the room, before turning back to L. He's smirking. How dare he.

“You know, I'm being very kind to you by staying here. I could just leave. I should just leave.”

“Don't,” Light says.

“I won't, because I love you.”

“I love you too,” Light tells him. It's a lie. It always is. Sometimes he lies so well he even convinces himself. “I love you much more than anyone could ever love Misa.”

L rolls onto his back. “That isn't very much love.”

“You should leave before Misa gets here.”

He pouts. “I don't want to.”

“You have somewhere else to go, right?”

“I want to see her face when she realises you don't love her any more.”

Strangely enough, that's something Light has wanted to see for a long time. The way that their desires line up is a sign of how well Light has manipulated the detective. It's proof of his superiority: even the people trying to stop him love him. He truly is a god. But L cannot stay, because what he needs to do is undeniable proof that he's Kira.

He goes downstairs, L trailing after him like a bad dream, and flicks on the hall light. If he lets her, Misa will ring the doorbell and wake everyone up. He opens the front door and leans against the doorframe. Light waits for about ten minutes before her long shadow cuts into the light from his doorway. She's wearing so much black she almost becomes her own silhouette. Her skin shines white like his personal moon.

As she comes towards him, her walking turns into skipping. She bounces into his arms and plants a dry kiss on his cheek. “Hi Light!”

“Misa, be quiet, or you'll wake up my family.”

She obediently goes quiet and clings to his arm. “Okay, Light.” How hasn't she noticed L yet? Maybe she's noticed him and she just doesn't want to tell Light that without his permission. Yes, that must be it. He turns around and finds that L is gone.

She clings to him all the way up the stairs, which makes it quite hard to walk.

“Why did you need me?” Misa chirps.

Light closes the door. “Give me your Death Note.”

“I – I don't think I can.” She gives a wobbly laugh and steps away from his arm.

Light waits for a moment, then asks again. “Misa, give me that Death Note.”

“Why?” she bites back immediately. Light isn't used to Misa being so independent and he doesn't like it at all.

He places his hands on her shoulders, and she stares up at him, giggling quietly. She's shaking, but her eyes gleam steadily in the dull lamplight. “Misa. Stop screwing around and give me the Death Note.”

She flounces over to the bed, sits down with one leg crossed over the other, and pulls the Death Note out of her bra. How unhygienic. Then she holds it out to him in what seems like a sick parody of their first meeting. Her lips twitch into a smile, and then she starts laughing. Ryuk would be jealous of how long she laughs for.

Light opens up the Death Note and finds page after page of brightly-coloured deaths. He can't understand why she finds this so funny. Everything in the note is neat and colourful and – oh.

His name.

His name again and again, and hers, and his family's names, and then her name again.

Misa's still laughing.

Light is too shocked to move for a moment. “You're trying to kill me,” he whispers.

This note must be fake. It has to be, because otherwise he'd be dead. But criminals have still been dying, so the note has to be real. So Misa's – Misa's fucked up somewhere. It's definitely Misa's fault. Everything's Misa's fault. Misa's laughing her pretty little heart out and that's Misa's fault too.

Light grabs a pen and writes down 'Misa Amane'.

Maybe she'll stop laughing when she's dead.

* * *

 

**December 27 th**

Near spends most of the day creating elaborate card structures. According to her, the next murder will be on the 30th, so she doesn't need to worry about who'll die.

Matt isn't so calm about it. He's been pacing around most of the day, feeling trapped in this cramped apartment. He's smoked three cigarettes, then he'd put the packet away so he wouldn't waste them.

If Mello were here instead of Near, Matt's sure they would have solved the murders already. Then they'd have killed Near. Then Mello would have confessed his love for Matt, and Matt would say the same thing, and then they'd live happily ever after. And neither of them would die without the other one following. It's an immature fantasy he's harboured for much too long, but it's comforting. He'd never admit it, but he needs the comfort right now.

Near is terrible at comfort. She hasn't even spoken since telling him that because there are thirty relevant paint tubes, that will be the day of the murder. He's spoken to her, of course, because he's nice, but she'd just ignored him and built the wall higher.

When the sun rises as far as it will in the washed-out sky, Matt tosses one of the chocolate bars at Near. The card tower is almost as tall as her: for once, he doesn't mean to hit it. But the chocolate bar hits it, and the cards topple, and Near looks at him in disappointment.

“You're almost as bad as Mello,” she says flatly.

It's the first thing she's said in hours, and it's almost a compliment. Matt's throat goes dry, and he goes into the bedroom instead of saying anything.

He brings back the duvet, slung over his shoulder, and drapes it over Near. When she looks up at him with her dull charcoal eyes, he shrugs. “You looked cold,” he says. He can understand why she'd want an explanation: unlike many of the things Matt's done to her, this isn't obviously done to cause her discomfort.

Matt sits down next to her.

“What do you want?”

“What's your favourite thing to play with other people?”

Near is quiet for a while, then: “I don't know. I don't know any games to play with other people.”

“Okay. I guess I'll teach you some.”

“Why?” Her voice is so flat that her question sounds more like a statement. “Are you bored enough that you'll actually play with me instead of hurting me for your own amusement? I find this hard to believe.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “I'm just trying to be nice, Jesus...”

“You aren't very convincing.”

“Why are you being all suspicious?”

“You're Mello's best friend.”

“Yes? And why would that make you automatically distrust me?”

Near turns away, and Matt remembers why she'd distrust him. He'd never stopped Mello from going after her; sometimes he'd even helped him. He doesn't regret it, though.

Near's started building a structure with the cards again. Matt picks up some cards and helps her.

* * *

 

**January 6 th**

Misa can't stop laughing.

She tries to tell herself: this isn't funny, you're about to be killed, it's not funny, stop laughing. But even that is hilarious to her. Her stomach is starting to hurt from her laughing.

Light's looking through her Death Note, but he hasn't seen the worst bit yet. She watches his face closely. When his eyes grow wider, she knows he's found his name. His face contorts comically and it's just so funny and she just can't stop laughing.

Why did he even want to see her Death Note? The whole situation makes no sense and that's even funnier. She's been killing criminals like Light wanted her to – the news is proof of that. And there's no way he could have known about her little game. Nobody knows about that. Maybe Ryuk had somehow found out and told Light? Misa wouldn't be surprised. Ryuk probably wants her to die, like everyone does, even Misa.

Light grabs a pen and writes something down. She'd bet her life on it being her name.

If dead shinigami go where dead humans go, maybe she can spend eternity with Rem. She misses Rem. If Rem was here then Misa wouldn't be sitting here waiting to die, laughing.

“L, why are you here?” Light mutters.

The room's empty apart from Light and Misa. L isn't here because he died months ago. This is incredibly funny to Misa, and she keeps laughing.

“No – no, this is Misa's, she found it – no, it isn't what I asked her to bring, it was something else, I wanted to bring her diary, not this Death Note – no, I don't know how she found it - “

Misa's heart hurts worse than it ever has before. Light is still talking to the empty air. Doesn't he know that L's dead? Doesn't he know that L's buried under a pretty white cross? She's always thought of Light as sane. She was probably wrong.

“L, you know I'm not Kira, now be a little quieter, huh? I don't want my dad to wake up, yes – yes,

she's okay, she's just – laughing and I don't know why, but no, she isn't dying!”

It must have been 40 seconds by now.

Her laughing is cut short by her death.

* * *

 

**January 6 th**

Misa collapses and L watches her collapse and Light watches L watching her collapse.

“I can explain,” Light says. “I didn't kill her, you know I didn't.” He really, really hopes his parents are still asleep, because otherwise he's just ensured his own death. He grabs L's clammy hand. “I'll explain outside. I – don't want to wake up my parents.”

Also he doesn't want to tell them he's Kira.

L seems bored. He sinks into his slouch as they walk together down the street. Light still hasn't let go of his hand, because L doesn't seem to mind.

Light stops under a suitable lamp. “I'm Kira,” he mutters.

“Yes, I know.”

“You don't mind?”

“I love you too much to mind.”

Light's sure that L is lying, and that at the first chance he'll call the police. Tell them he's alive, tell them Light confessed to being Kira.

“You're lying,” Light says. L's eyes reflect Light's face back at him.

“I'm not lying, and I'm real. You killed Misa.”

“Yes, I did, because she tried to kill me.”

L smiles. “I'm glad she didn't kill you. I enjoy your existence.”

“I'm glad I didn't kill you, too.”

It's a little strange how everything has gone like it goes in Light's fantasies. But he's not going to complain that everything's going his way for once. Misa isn't going to bother him any more, and L loves him, and everything's so perfect.

When he comes back to his room, Misa's body is gone.

Okay, perhaps not everything is perfect. Misa and her annoying laughter are still out there somewhere. At least this way he won't have to deal with her body, he guesses.

His mind feels strange and dreamy and empty. Light doesn't care. He's a god, so he has an excuse. It's okay. It's all going so well so it's okay if he gets a bit weird. Gods are never normal. But gods are perfect, like Light is perfect, and he thinks he's going to be sick if he thinks too much. That wouldn't be very godlike. Instead he kisses L and they curl around each other on the bed, and Light's hand curls around the crumpled scrap of paper, and everything is so perfect.

 


	8. morning

**December 28 th**

In the morning, Matt has an epiphany.

He looks at the slashes on Henrietta's legs. Four on the leg pointing to the red wall, two on the leg pointing to the yellow wall. He takes the red paint and the yellow paint and mixes them together in the ratio of the slashes.

The colour it makes is the colour of clay. Therefore Gabriel Clay will be the next victim. How simple. Matt wonders if Beyond had intentionally made it easy because he underestimated them. Well, he'd soon realise that they're much smarter than he thinks.

Near's curled up in some kind of duvet nest in the corner of the room. She looks so calm it's almost a shame to wake her up, like so many times before.

He's not unfamiliar with waking her up. One week, back in Wammy's when the only thing they had to fear was not getting good marks, he and Mello had stayed in Near's room every night. Mello had read about some experiment where a rat was stopped from ever getting any proper sleep, and he wanted to try that on Near. Just to see if it would affect her test scores, not to inflict any permanent harm, or at least that was what Mello had said. He'd never actually told Matt what had happened to the rat.

They'd taken turns to sneak into Near's room each night. Matt had set an alarm to go off every minute and inserted it into Near's ear so that she'd never get the chance to sleep properly. Then he'd slept in the corner of her room to make sure she didn't remove the alarm. She hadn't, which kinda scared him.

He doesn't know what Mello did to Near to stop her sleeping. It can't have been pleasant.

During the day, Matt had hung around her and shook her whenever she tried to sleep while Mello studied. By the end of the week, Near seemed too exhausted to even play with her toys. Mello had been sure that he'd finally be able to beat her. And – he hadn't. Near won again.

Matt hopes Near wins this time, but only because if she wins, Matt gets to see Mello.

He shakes her again. “Get the fuck up,” he growls, “I figured out who it is.”

She doesn't.

He kicks her.

Near limply flops to one side.

“Near, wake up. Stop fucking around. We need to find Gabriel Clay.” Matt kicks her again. “You need to wake up right now.”

She still doesn't wake up. Something she'd said earlier flashes into his mind: something about how if someone with a concussion sleeps too much, they might not wake up. If that happens it will be because he didn't help her. So Near better just be screwing around - Matt's rather averse to responsibility.

“Wake up.”

Silence.

He rips apart ten of her cards. It won't do any good, he knows that. It's more stress relief than anything.

“If you don't wake up I'm leaving.”

Near doesn't wake up, but Matt doesn't leave.

* * *

  **January 7 th**

It's in the morning when Light feels grounded again. The last few days have seemed misty and on the wrong side of real. Here with L – this is real. Possibly the realest thing he's ever done.

Light calls Misa to ask where she went after he'd killed her. She doesn't pick up, which is understandable, he thinks, maybe. After all, he'd written her name in the Death Note intending to kill her. Even if she didn't actually die he'd still killed her. Like L didn't die, even though Rem had killed him, and like Light didn't die, even though Misa had killed him hundreds of times.

Gingerly, he picks the Death Note from the floor and flips through the pages. Light knows he's alive but it still sends a chill through him to see his name written down. Once or twice, both of their names are written together: 'Light Yagami loves Misa Amane'.

Misa must be deluded to think anyone loves her.

Watari's name is written on the top of a page near the middle of the book. Logically L's should be below it, but the rest of the page has been ripped out. Why would Misa want L's name? Maybe she's trying to hide it from Light – yes, that must be it, they must be working together to try and bring him down! Or – no, L loves him too much to betray him – so – so it must be Misa who's betrayed him! She'd tried to kill him. It's obvious. She'd been against him from the start.

Light calls her up again. Still no answer. She's probably just ashamed he figured out her plan. He leaves a message telling her he knows exactly what she did.

L's watching him. How didn't Light notice him? He needs to be more careful.

“Good morning,” L says.

Light wants to kill him all over again. “You're alive.”

“What did you expect me to be?”

“Rem killed you.”

L smirks. “Obviously not.”

And that's the problem, isn't it? L's alive because Rem didn't do her job because Rem loved Misa so much because Misa did something and therefore it's all Misa's fault and Light really needs to find a better way to kill her so that she won't come crawling back like L did and god – he didn't even realise his thoughts were this disorganized.

“Good morning,” L says. “What did you expect me to be? Obviously not.”

Light calls Misa again. This time she answers.

“Good morning,” Misa says.

He didn't plan this far ahead. But he's good at adapting to unexpected situations, such as having dead people come back to life.

“I don't understand how you managed to survive. You don't deserve to.”

“Obviously not,” L says.

“Obviously not,” Misa says.

“Stop doing that.”

“What did you expect me to be?”

“What did - “

“No, stop, no, both of you, stop - “

“Good morning,” they say, their voices so sweet - “good morning -”

Light throws the phone across the room and L stares at him and Misa is still talking -

“Stop, stop, stop - “

“What did you expect me to be?”

Light screams.

“Are we still friends?”

“How are you real – how can you still be alive – how is – no, stop -”

“Good - “

Someone's knocking at the door.

“If I'm your friend, why did you try and kill me?”

“No – I – I didn't try and kill anyone – I - “

“Light, are you alright in there?” It's his mother's voice.

Light goes to the door and tries to ignore L and Misa and their shrill voices and the constant repetition and the constant repetition.

“Yes, I'm fine, I'm just having an argument with someone over the phone,” he hisses. He doesn't open the door. If he did, she might see L.

“Be a little quieter.” Light hears footsteps – she must be gone.

At some point, Misa and L must have stopped talking. He doesn't know when but at least it's quiet now.

“What was that?” he asks L.

L stares at him blankly. He starts chewing on his thumb. “I think you must have just imagined it.”

* * *

  **December 28 th**

The shifts in the shop must be really messed up. The skinny boy and the blond kid are there again, the younger one hiding his face behind the till. There are also several other customers here. Matt skulks by the fridge, intending to go talk to them once the shop is empty.

He picks up a bottle of milk and inspects the small print on the label.

“Hey,” someone purrs from behind him.

Matt turns his head. It's the older shop assistant, grinning at him. His teeth are strangely white.

“I found you the addresses of those people you talked about yesterday. I thought you'd want them.” He places his hand on Matt's shoulder.

Does he think they're friends or something because he's helped Matt once or twice? “I didn't ask for that,” Matt says gruffly. He would have done. He doesn't know how this man can answer his question before he's asked it.

“But you'll need it.” The shop assistant makes a great show of pulling a scrap of paper out his apron and offering it to Matt with bowed head and closed eyes.

Matt takes it and leaves while the assistant still can't see him. He returns to the apartment. Near's asleep like she has been since late last night, curled up around one of her toy robots, the one he didn't smash. He decides to smash this one too. He doesn't, though, because as he tugs it out, Near grabs his hand and holds it gently. After a few seconds Matt pulls away.

He assumes it's like what babies do in their sleep. He's never seen a baby, but Near is the closest thing to one that he's ever seen. He tucks the robot back into her arms.

“I talked to the shop assistant,” he says. Just for the sake of having something to listen to. It's too quiet in here and Henrietta's body is creeping him out. “I'd think he was the murderer but that would be too easy, so it's probably the blond kid. I know what you said yesterday, about how if we confronted him before he wants us to he'll kill us. And yeah, I understand, but still, it's frustrating.”

Matt takes out his lighter and flicks it, over and over. “He gave me the addresses of the people we talked about yesterday. So it's obvious he knows who all of them are. You know, while I'm sitting here talking to you, he's probably already sharpening his knives or... oh, I dunno, whatever he's going to skin that poor kid with."

“You know, I have Gabriel Clay's address. I'm just waiting for you to wake up before I go and talk to him. Apparently he's like seventeen, and to be honest, that's fucking terrifying. When I'm surrounded by nine year olds, it's really easy to forget that I'm fourteen. I don't think even Mello could fight Gabriel if he got angry. I mean, this is if Gabriel was actually fighting. If he wasn't fighting, just kinda threatening to get vicious, Mello would probably, like, stick a knife in his ear or something. Kill him before Beyond Birthday gets the chance to.”

“I'd suggest that we do that, but, like, then we'd be arrested for murder. We're probably already gonna be suspected for Henrietta. It really wouldn't help us to kill someone else.”

God, being on the run from a murderer sounds so fun. It sounds like the type of thing that would be made into the biggest movie of the century. Or an action novel. But then those are all blood and fear and mutilation. They don't talk about how boring it is.

He's never read a book where the hero can't figure out how to work the shower so they just sit in the bath and stare at the tiles on the wall. He's never read a book where the hero coughs so much they almost vomit on their wonderful companion. Obviously Matt's the hero here – Near isn't even good enough to count as a companion. He thinks that one of the conditions to be a person's companion is that the person has to like you. And he doesn't like Near, not at all.

"I don't like you," Matt tells her. "But I think you're my third favourite person."

He watches her sleeping. The rhythm of her breathing is surprisingly peaceful.

"I mean, you're only my third favourite person when you're asleep. When you're awake you're far too annoying to be that high up on the list. When you're awake you're like," he pauses for a moment, "my fourth favourite person."

Matt smokes three cigarettes while talking to Near.

“If you're still not awake by three in the afternoon, I'm going to go find Gabriel Clay. I'm going to tell him he's in danger. He probably won't listen, but I hope he does, because if he dies it will be our fault for not protecting him.”

He puts his cigarette in his mouth, thinks for a moment, then takes it out again.

“Nah, it'll be his fault for not listening to us.”

It's one in the afternoon when Matt starts begging Near to wake up. He was the one who gave her the concussion. It's his fault she could be dead. He doesn't want to be responsible for her death, that's all, it's not like he just wants her to be alive.

His lunch is the biscuits Near bought a few days ago. As far as Matt knows, Near hasn't eaten at all since buying them. The chocolate bar he'd tried to give her yesterday is lying on the ground untouched.

* * *

  **January 7 th**

Light calls Misa again after work.

Today they had met up in a hotel room, like it had been in the early days of L's investigation. Light hadn't wanted them to use his bedroom any more – it was too dangerous for L. If the task force were to be in there when L felt like visiting, it would be over. Light hangs back in the hotel lobby and waits for all the others to leave before he does. Once he can't see them on the street, he takes out his phone.

He thinks the other members of the task force might be starting to doubt his judgement. Matsuda keeps giving him strange glances and then whispering to Soichiro. Aizawa's been carefully avoiding looking him in the eye. It must be because Light isn't as good as L. The case has barely progressed in the last few months. The excuse that Light's in mourning is stale. He's running out of ideas to stall them. That's the only reason they're looking at him like he's mad.

Misa picks up on the first ring.

“Nobody's died today,” Light says. He leans against the bare bricks of the hotel wall.

“That's because I haven't killed anyone today.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because I'm not working for you any more.”

Light's world shifts out of focus. “What – yes, you are!”

“I've framed you for killing me. And they'll find you soon.”

He looks for a way to escape. There isn't one. He's standing in the street and Misa isn't anywhere nearby. She could kill him at any moment. Why isn't he dead? He isn't breathing. He can't figure out how to escape.

“They'll figure out you're Kira after a while, and then you'll die.”

“But you love me,” he chokes out. His throat is so tight it's hard to get the words out. It's hard to keep inhaling. The cars in front of him blur into coloured dots. “You love me, you can't betray me. You can't do this. You can't. You love me.”

She giggles, sharp and staticky. “No, I don't.”

The call ends. Light falls to his knees.

* * *

  **December 27 th**

 Near makes sure that Matt is asleep. She leaves quietly, and returns after an hour with a pointed grin. Revenge isn't as far in the future as she had feared.


	9. knife

**December 28** **th**

Matt promises Near that if she wakes up by three, he'll buy her some new toys.

At three, he promises that if she wakes up by five, he'll buy her every toy she wants.

The sun sinks below the horizon at exactly four.

At five, he promises that if she wakes up, he'll protect her from Mello and he'll never let her get hurt again.

He can't leave. Not now she's so vulnerable. She could be killed, and Matt doesn't want that on his conscience.

He wastes the whole day smoking and pacing and begging. It's the kind of thing Mello would call him pathetic for doing – he knows this from experience, from the several times he had to beg Mello to not kill himself. Doing this brings back the kind of memories he'd rather let go. But every time he opens his mouth to talk to Near, it's like he's doing it for Mello.

The first time had been when they were both seven. Did Mello even know what he was doing with the knife back then? They'd both known what death was – Wammy had made sure of that. Matt hadn't known then, though, that what Mello was doing was intended to kill him. Just that he'd wanted Mello to put the knife down before he got hurt.

The second time was a few years later. Near had pissed him off somehow and Mello had been telling her that she'd be responsible when he died. Matt had been the only one who could calm him down.

There have been three times since then. All of them have involved Matt sobbing and pleading. All of them have involved Mello laughing and counting out pills and telling Matt to stop crying, he sounds like a child.

Mello was thirteen then. A child himself.

But he always woke up eventually, and Matt just has to hope that Near will wake up too. He places several blankets over her so she'll stay warm. Later on, he carries her to the bed. She's alarmingly light. It's too late to go out now.

He lies on his back, stretched out, looking up at the ceiling as the thoughts chase each other around his head. Matt can't believe he wasted a whole day. It's the kind of thing an idiot would do, the kind of thing Mello would kill an idiot for – and there his thoughts go, always circling back to Mello somehow.

Gabriel Clay's address is on the scrap of paper the assistant gave him.

_Green – 12 Vernier Street_

_Clay – 70 Sermon Road_

_Amberwood – 5 Stony Lane_

_Silver - 119 Sermon Road_

_Forests – 16 Worthy Road_

Matt'll have to go to Gabriel first thing in the morning and tell him what's going on and why he's in danger. But Near will have to stay here, unprotected. He can't let her die, but he can't let Gabriel die either. He'll just have to hide Near somewhere. It takes him a long time to realize that his eyes are burning with tiredness. When he realizes, he curls around the nearest warm thing, which is coincidentally Near. Strangely, the thoughts still, and he falls asleep easily.

* * *

**December 29** **th**

Gabriel wakes up with the alarm clock screaming. Slams his hand down. Blearily rubs his eyes. Stumbles out of bed. His head is killing him and he didn't even drink that much last night.

Someone's pounding on the door.

His mouth tastes like someone's bled out in it. He brushes his teeth and now his mouth tastes like someone's bled out, but before dying they injected pure mint into their bloodstream.

The noise of the door is making his head hurt even more than he knew was possible.

Gabriel tosses on a shirt and jeans before opening it. Standing in the doorframe is a kid with hair the colour of dried blood. He's pulling at the hem of his shirt. "Are you – Gabriel Clay?" he stutters out.

"Sorry, I don't give to charity," he says in the most polite tone possible. He goes to slam the door but the kid sticks his foot in the way.

"I'm not here for charity. I'm here because the murderer is going to kill you tomorrow."

Gabriel wants to dismiss this whole fucking thing as a joke. So he does, because the possibility his life's in danger is too terrifying for him to think about. He laughs at the kid. "Fuck off. Go get your money from somebody else. I'm not a fucking idiot."

"If you weren't an idiot you would listen to me," the kid says, raising his voice a bit.

"Only an idiot would listen to you," he hisses, and then goes to slam the door again, but he stops because the kid's holding out a large knife, and the knife's covered in dry blood.

* * *

**January 7** **th**

If Misa didn't want her plan disrupted, she shouldn't have told Light about it. She shouldn't have told him the names of everyone in the task force. If she didn't want all her managers to die she would have taken their names off Wikipedia.

When Light gets home he checks that nobody has entered his bedroom. The door handle is the same as it always is, therefore L isn't here. It doesn't really surprise Light when L is there anyway. He's sitting on Light's desk playing with a pen.

Light sits down on the bed and pats the bed next to him. "L, I want to show you something." He takes out Misa's Death Note from under his pillow. There's no point in putting effort into hiding it now L isn't trying to find it. Light briefly wonders why Misa didn't take the note when she left. It would be much more efficient at killing him than the stupid plan she's come up with. Then again, Misa has never been efficient.

L shuffles over to the bed, looking at Light expectantly.

"I'm going to kill someone."

"Alright." L leans his head on Light's shoulder. He's surprisingly warm for someone who should be lying in the ground stone cold. It's nice here snuggled together.

'Maya Umeki', Light writes. "That's one of her managers." 'Dies of a heart attack in 23 days. During her remaining life she acts as if she thinks Misa is alive and as if she knows where Misa is'.

"But Misa-Misa  _is_  alive," L points out unhelpfully. His hair tickles Light's neck.

"She called me earlier. She told me she was in hiding, faking her death. She wants me to get arrested."

"But doesn't she love you?" For the world's best detective, L can be astoundingly oblivious.

"Not any more. But it's okay. I've got you for that."

L kisses Light's neck.

"Akihiro Takemura, dies of a heart attack in 23 days," Light narrates as he writes. "During his remaining life he acts as if he thinks Misa is alive and as if he knows where Misa is."

"You're so smart."

"Yes, I am."

"Misa's stopped killing criminals. Aren't you going to kill some to make up for it?"

"No. I'm going to make it obvious that Misa is Kira. Now that she's stopped, the killings will stop, so they'll know it was her, not me. It will be so obvious."

Satisfied, Light tucks the Death Note back under the pillow. L smiles at Light like he's a god, which he is.

* * *

**December 29th**

Matt thinks this is going rather well.

Gabriel had actually listened after a while of Matt waving the knife at him, and he'd accepted Matt's offer of protection. And then he'd started crying and Matt had had to watch. It wasn't elegant, just kind of pathetic. He'd wanted to call his parents to tell them that he might die, but Matt hadn't let him. "The killer might be listening," he'd said.

After about an hour of awkward silence, Gabriel attempts to leave.

Matt blocks the door. "No."

"My friends are going to be worried about me."

"Text them. Tell them you've got such a bad hangover you're staying in today." Gabriel shakes his head, so Matt steps behind him and presses the knife against the man's stubbly throat. "No. Call them. That way I know exactly what you're saying to them."

"It's you, isn't it?" he says flatly. "You're the murderer."

Matt can't come up with any way to prove he isn't, so he just drags the tip of the knife down Gabriel's neck. "Take your phone out of your pocket and call one of your friends. I'll tell you what to say. If you don't do exactly as I ask you will die."

He feels a bit like Mello. But in a bad way.

Gabriel's fingers are shaking as he dials the number.

"Good. Say hello, then your friend's name."

"Hello, Dan," he says. He's nearly crying again.

"Now, say that you feel terrible."

"I feel terrible."

"Tell him you'll be staying in today."

"I'll be staying in today, sorry." Gabriel's voice breaks on the 'sorry'. Matt doesn't think he can do this any more.

"Say bye."

"Bye, Dan. I - "

Before Gabriel can say anything else, Matt grabs the phone and hangs up.

"Please don't kill me," Gabriel chokes out. "I don't want to die, I really don't. I'm going to go to college next year. I'm going to be a doctor so you can't kill me, please don't kill me. I'll do anything. I promise I will do anything, just don't kill me." He falls to his knees and tugs at the bottoms of Matt's jeans.

"I won't kill you. Go watch TV."

Gabriel seems more scared than ever. "What do you want me to watch?"

"Doesn't matter. I'll be here for a while and I don't want either of us to get bored."

And so for the rest of the day, both sit on Gabriel's stained couch and watch nature documentaries. Matt knows most of the science in them, and has done for years. The knife in his hand smells disgusting. Gabriel smells even worse.

If possible, today is even more boring than yesterday. Gabriel even falls asleep around noon, and Matt is left to wonder if Near's been killed yet.

However, he can't go back to check on her, because then Gabriel would probably call the police and tell them that Matt's the serial killer. But – that won't matter if he stays here, because then Matt can kill the real serial killer, and it will be obvious how innocent Matt is, and then they'll be able to find Mello and leave. And Mello will admire Matt's bravery. It will be great, he's sure.

When he wakes up – when did he even fall asleep? Why did he do something that stupid? - Gabriel's lying on the floor. Someone's knocking on the door.

He picks up the knife and grips it so tight it will leave impressions in his palm later. Blood pulses fast through his body. He steels himself as he steps towards the door.

The knocking continues.

If his heart keeps on like this, it won't be Beyond Birthday that kills him, it'll be a heart attack.

Matt takes a deep breath, opens the door, and thrusts the knife forwards.

* * *

**January 10** **th**

Light's having sex with L when his phone starts ringing.

Then L disappears, so Light answers the phone.

"Hello, is this... Light Yagami?" someone says. It isn't Misa's voice. He doesn't recognise it at all and that makes him want to kill whoever's on the other end.

"Yes, it is."

"Do you know where Misa is?"

"Her managers say she's too sick to come out."

"Yes, well... thing is, I really need to see her about something. It's to do with the man who killed her parents. I've been trying to get in contact with her for days, and... I think her managers are lying." The person pauses.

The world is his and the world is not how he wanted it to be. It should be. Hasn't he shown the world by now that unless everyone kneels to him, everyone will die?

"I - " their voice drops to a whisper " - broke into her house. She wasn't there. It looked like it had been untouched for days. Your number and name were written on a scrap of paper by her bed. "

Light thinks he has forgotten how to breathe normally. "I – if she's not there – I – maybe Kira - "

"Don't panic!"

He's panicking anyway and a voice over the phone isn't going to stop that. Just – hopefully they'll think he's panicking because she might be dead. Not because she is dead. And she isn't dead, and god this is so confusing, and maybe he's the one who's dead, and he just managed not to notice, and he just wants to kill, and he manages to blurt out "Give me your name, I'll contact you if I hear anything from her."

It's oddly satisfying to write out the name.

They say, "I need to go," and Light asks them to keep talking for just a bit more about what they think happened to Misa. They tell him their theories until their phone clatters onto the floor.

And Light starts laughing then.

* * *

**December 29** **th**

Near falls backwards and clutches at her shoulder. Her fingers come away slick and wet. How strange. It's so dark she can't make out the colour of the warm liquid, just that it is glistening obscenely. How beautiful.

Matt is still standing in the doorway with the knife

"Were you aiming for my heart?" she asks him, laughing.

His face is pale. He hasn't moved since stabbing her.

The tarmac is rough under her hand as she stands back up. "Why are you even here? Gabriel isn't going to die. Come on. We need to go save Stanley Amberwood."


End file.
